


Cousin Arabella

by Lilachigh



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:59:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilachigh/pseuds/Lilachigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I do hope you will like this rather light-hearted story. It is set in Season 6 - Buffy is back from the dead, having an affair with Spike - and all she wants is a little fun in her mundane life of work and caring for a little sister. There will be vampires, a party, jealousy, sex and a great deal of pink champagne. Oh and a bright green, seven foot tall demon who is one of my favourite characters to write! And before you tell me that Spike doesn't have any family, I'll refer you to the episode Goodbye, Iowa in season 4. Spike tells Buffy "...you do have bleedin' tragic taste in men, Goldilocks. I've got a cousin, married a regurgitating Frovlax demon who's got better taste than you..." This cousin is never referred to again and I thought I would rectify that with this story! Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Invitation

   
COUSIN ARABELLA

 

by Lilachigh

 

“You’ve got cobwebs all over your ceiling,” Buffy murmured dreamily. Lying on your back on top of a stone coffin was a really good way of spotting all the little housework details that Spike had missed, she decided.

“Hello! Vampire. Crypt. Spiders. Deal with it,” came the muttered response from beneath the ruffled white blonde curls buried against her breast.

“I could buy you a feather duster. One of those really long ones on a pole – ”

Spike’s head jerked upwards. “Listen, missy, if you buy a feather duster, I can think of a thousand other uses for it.”

“Promises, promises,” she giggled and felt herself blushing. She must get out of this habit of flirting with Spike. She was here for one thing and that was....well, to feel and not think and he was convenient and useful and doing something to her now with his fingers that was going to make her - ‘oh god, oh god, don’t let him stop, please don’t let him stop,’ she screamed inside her head.

And he didn’t.

When she came back from the swirling red and black place he sent her to, he was sitting cross- legged at the end of the tomb, looking at her. She glared at him. “You’ve got dressed,” she said, taking in the jeans with a frown.

“I’ve got a favour to ask, Slayer.”

“And you have to have clothes on for that?”

“Do you want to come out with me tomorrow?”

“What?”

Spike sighed. “Exactly which words in that sentence don’t you understand? You, me, tomorrow ?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” She didn’t know whether she was pleased or horrified. She slept with Spike, they had sex - OK, mind blowing, heart racing, body shaking sex, but that was all it was; she had convinced herself of that. In fact she convinced herself of that every time she saw him! But they weren’t dating.

“No! Yes. Look, I’ve got to go somewhere tomorrow and I need to take...the invite said...”

“Bring a friend! And you haven’t got one!” Ignoring the fact that she was naked, Buffy sat up, eyes sparkling with glee. “You’ve got a invitation and need a date. Hey, how come you get invitations? Don’t tell me you’ve got a mail box. What does it say on the envelope? William the Bloody, third crypt on the right, Sunnydale Cemetery!”

“Ha, bleeding ha, Slayer.” Spike looked uncomfortable. For one glorious moment Buffy thought he actually looked shy. “I heard on the grapevine. And I just thought you might like the drive.”

“So, not because you don’t want to look like the big no-hoper loser who turns up on his own?”

“I took Dru to a party once,” Spike said, reaching out absentmindedly to stroke her foot. 

“Ummm…”

“She killed most of the guests.”

Buffy jerked her foot away. “Oh gross, Spike!”

“It was sort of business. I’ll tell you about it some day. But this is a bit different. This is family.”

Buffy stared at him in silence, then pulled on her jeans and shirt. Obviously the fun part of the day was over. “You haven’t got any family, Spike. You told me you killed them all.”

Spike shrugged. “Vampire, luv, can’t help the nature of the beast. But this is my Cousin Arabella. I told you about her once when you were mooning around after GI Joe. She married a regurgitating Frovlax demon, name of Div’vid. Nice bloke, as far as Frovlaxes go. Which isn’t very far usually, as they’re home bodies on the whole.”

Buffy balanced on one foot, trying to pull on her boot. She had a sudden flash back to when Willow had cast her spell on them and she and Spike had become engaged. She could recall Xander standing there with an astounded expression on his face and knew exactly how he’d felt. She decided to concentrate on one point at a time. “You’ve got a cousin?”

“I had lots of cousins,” said Spike cheerfully. “Big families in those days, pet. Not like the ones and twos today. So I had first cousins, second cousins, cousins once and twice removed. We called them ‘kissing cousins’.”

“And you, what, forgot to kill this one?”

“I turned her,” Spike said calmly. “She was the only one of my family I could stand. Wankers, the rest were, the whole lot of them.”

He got up and prowled restlessly around the crypt. How could he ever explain to Buffy that he’d been the laughing stock of his family since childhood. The butt of every joke. Bullied unmercifully at school - roasting, they’d call it, being held over a roaring fire till you screamed for mercy - called Mummy’s boy and other names he refused to remember. But he couldn’t help picturing some family gathering when his cousins had found him upstairs on his own, reading. They’d twisted his spectacles and torn pages from his book and thrown them on the fire. Then they’d laughed as he tried to fight back, ineffectually swinging fists that never connected because he was weak and pathetic.

And the only person who hadn’t laughed was Cousin Arabella. Of course he’d turned her when he’d had the chance. Killed all the others but not her. She was his favourite. He’d felt it was only fair. He hadn’t told Dru right away, though. He’d had enough brains, even in those days, to realise that Dru wouldn’t take kindly to a ‘kissing cousin’ vampire being around. They’d met up later. There was the puppy incident…….

“So – ” Buffy decided to steer clear of the kissing scenario. It made her uneasy to think of Spike and kissing together, although she didn’t understand why. They’d done enough of it recently. “So - she married this David?”

“Div’vid,” Spike repeated patiently. “Big guy, over seven foot tall. Bright green. Looks like a rather mournful cow. Froflaxes are regurgitating demons. They sort of bring up the contents of their stomachs and chew it again. Like cows.”

Buffy sat down abruptly. “And she married that?” she said faintly, wondering how on earth they coped at meal times. Watching Spike drink his packets of blood was bad enough, but this sounded just - euwwwwh. 

“Hey, family here! He’s good bloke is Div’vid. Apart from the fact that he supports Manchester City and not United. Born on the blue side of town not the red. But then no one‘s perfect. Clem prefers basketball to soccer. No, Div’vid’s been a good husband to Arabella.”

“Oh.” Buffy fell silent. She pulled a can of coke out of Spike’s fridge – where did he get the electricity from? - and popped it open. Where good husbands were concerned, she was no judge. Her own father had flown off as soon as he’d had a better offer. And all the men in her life so far had upped and left her. Even the love of her life had gone to L.A. because he couldn’t bear the pain of them being together. She dragged her thoughts back to the present. “So, what’s the invitation to?”

“Bloody hell, Slayer. Can’t you just say yes or no?” Spike followed her to the fridge and took out a mug already filled with pig‘s blood. “They’ve been married for a hundred years. It’s a party.”

Buffy froze, her can of drink half way to her lips. The enormity of what he’d said had just hit home. The dread that every girl feels when the man - or thing - she’s going with invites her out rushed over her. “Spike, I haven’t got a thing to wear!”

* * * * *

When you’re standing clad only in pale peach bra and panties with the whole contents of your closet spread out on the bed in front of you, you are entitled to feel hot and bothered. Buffy clenched her fists in her hair. This was stupid! She could face demons and vampires. God, she’d died twice. Choosing what to wear for a date - no not a date - for doing Spike a favour! - couldn’t be that difficult, surely?

But they were going to a party with his cousin Arabella and her regurgitating demon husband - the fashion magazines never told you what to wear for that sort of occasion.

The breeze from the open window fanned against her body, bringing with it the faintest smell of smoke and leather. She didn’t even turn round to check. “Spike - I heard you climbing up the trellis ages ago.”

“Well, Slayer, I’ve just been sitting here admiring the view. Didn’t want to disturb you as you seemed so preoccupied. And, by the way, you’re late! We should have left bloody ages ago.”

She picked up a towelling robe and pulled it on before she turned round.

Spike sighed heavily. “Slayer, I have seen you, on many occasions, stark naked. What’s with the fragile virgin act?“ His voice grew deeper, smoother, like cream poured across brandy ice. “We know you’re not.“

He was sitting on her window sill, looking the picture of indolent comfort. Buffy ignored what he was saying, just as she was ignoring the sensations that poured in a torrent across her nervous system every time she saw him. Sometimes, when she fell into her own bed in the depths of the night, when she couldn’t prevent her mind from repeating endlessly what she and Spike had been doing all evening...she was certain that when Willow had brought her back from the dead, she’d been magiced by some other witch on the way because surely only magic could make her feel like this about Spike.

“You’re not dressed up,” she said now, taking in the usual black T and red silk shirt under his duster.

Spike shrugged then grinned. ‘‘Not big with the glamorous clothes, pet. We could go steal me some, if you want. I’ve always fancied a velvet jacket. Giles has one, you know. Green. Old, but came from a shop in Jermyn Street, off Piccadilly. Posh area. I ate one of the guys from Trumpers, the barber shop, there once. I thought it might give me some ideas for my hair. He knows where to shop does your Watcher.” He raised his scarred eyebrow at her. “Fancy putting your arms round me and feeling velvet under your fingertips, luv?”

Buffy could hardly hear him for the roaring of blood in her ears. All she wanted to feel under her fingertips was his bare skin.

He held out his hand and she moved towards him as if hypnotised. Oh God, she knew what he was about to do and she wanted him to, so much. The robe suddenly lay in shreds on the floor and she was pulled hard into his embrace as he wrapped his leather coat around them .

His fingers plunged beneath the peach panties and in seconds she was writhing her way to a massive climax. As she spiralled down, she reached for the zip on his trousers, but he pulled away, kissed her swiftly on the lips and said, “Tempting though that is, we’re running late, Slayer. Cousin Arabella is expecting us. I’ll wait my turn - give me something to look forward to. Now, get dressed.”

She sighed. Man or vampire, obviously being on time was some sort of a male thing. But why was he so concerned over what his cousin thought?

She was in and out of the shower in minutes. Back in her bedroom, she found him turning over her outfits. He picked up a white, sleeveless dress, patterned with red flowers. “This one,” he said with a smile. “Red on white - my favourite combination! But hey, don’t bother with these.” And he waved a pair of white lacy briefs at her.

“You’re a pig, Spike,” she grumbled, but pulled the dress over her head, found shoes and a purse that she knew contained a couple of stakes. She certainly wasn’t going to any demon gathering unarmed, even if they were Spike’s relatives. In fact, that made it even more necessary to take weapons with her! “OK?” she said finally.

He looked at her without smiling, then reached out and smoothed back a rebellious lock of hair that had dropped across her cheek. “You look gorgeous, Slayer.”

As they walked downstairs - luckily Dawn was on a sleepover at Janice’s - Buffy said, “Arabella, your cousin - is she pretty? What’s she like. Blonde, dark, red-head?”

Spike hesitated a fraction too long before replying. He had the feeling this was one of those questions women ask to which there was no correct answer. He remembered telling Dru once that he thought a girl at a party was pretty and she’d then proceeded to drain her in front of him. And then another time, when he thought he was being clever by saying he thought a girl they’d met in France was ugly - when she wasn’t - Dru had accused him of being a liar and tortured the girl to death.

“She’s over a hundred years old, Buffy.”

“You’re older.”

“So am I pretty?” Spike slid his hand up her bare leg under her skirt, trying to force her mind away from Arabella.

Buffy shook him off. She was beginning to get irritated. Why wouldn’t he tell her about his cousin? Had he - she reached for her key to lock the front door - had he been in love with her when he was human? He’d told her they were ‘kissing cousins’. How much kissing had gone on in that repressed Victorian England.

Was that the reason he hadn’t killed Arabella, but turned her into a vampire? Had he wanted her to keep him company in his other world? She felt a blaze of emotion she didn’t recognise for a moment - then to her astonishment realised she was jealous. That was why she’d been so keen to look good this evening, why what she wore had been so important. She was determined to look good when she met this Arabella. She didn’t want to look like some ditzy blonde Spike had picked up at the beach. How ridiculous, of course you’re not jealous, she told herself firmly. That would be bad and silly. I have no feelings for Spike, so I can’t possibly have any reason to be jealous of some old cousin of his.

So why did he pick out this dress? she wondered. Is it because I look good in it, or does he know that Arabella is stunning and it doesn’t matter what I wear because next to her, I’ll look like a dork?

Buffy was halfway down the path to the road when she stopped dead. Spike was standing beside a long black shiny convertible that screamed money, money and more money. He opened the passenger door and waved at her to get in.

“What on earth - Spike - whose car is that?”

The vampire stroked the shiny paint with that expression on his face guys had when they stood in car show rooms looking at the latest models. Then when he turned to Buffy, his face changed and he seemed slightly uneasy. “Well, it’s ours for tonight, Goldilocks. Now hurry up and get in.”

Buffy stared at him. “Are you insane? You’ve stolen it, haven’t you? There is no way I’m riding around in a stolen car! Take it back.”

“Bloody hell, Slayer. It isn’t stolen. I...I borrowed it. I’ll put it back tomorrow. The guy who owns it is in Mexico for a month. He’ll never even know it’s gone. And I paid for the gas,” he said, obviously pleased with himself.

Buffy hesitated. She’d never ridden in a car as expensive and luxurious as this before. A feeling of recklessness washed over her. Since Willow had brought her back from the dead, her life had contained no luxuries of any sort. She’d had to watch every cent she spent. Dawn needed new clothes, books and shoes all the time. Buffy couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent any money on herself.

She slid inside the car. Her skirt rucked up and she could feel the soft leather pressing against her bare thighs and remembered with a shudder that she wasn’t wearing any panties. Suddenly she didn’t care. She wanted to ride in this car, next to Spike. To drive off into the night where no would know her, no one could see her, so she could do things, have things done to her.....

Her heart was racing so fast she was sure Spike could hear it. Why did he make her feel like this? Wicked, wanton, a Buffy that no one, friends or family, would recognise. Was this who she was? A Slayer so hot that she wanted to drag Spike into the car on top of her at this very second, wrap her legs round him and make him beg her to make him come. So it was wicked, but just for once, couldn’t she allow herself a little naughtiness. No one would ever know, except for Spike, of course, and he’d never tell....

“OK,” she whispered. “But only if you drive very carefully and don’t speed, and if there’s a single mark on it, you get it repaired before you return it.”

Spike grinned, flung his duster into the back seat, slid behind the wheel and with a blare of sound from the CD player, the car hurtled away towards whatever the night might bring them - and Cousin Arabella.

Buffy leaned back in her seat as the sleek black car sped through the night. The wind tossed her hair and she felt blissfully cool. She stared up at the stars wheeling above her head and felt all the muscles in her body relaxing, one by one. It was amazing, just to be able to exist, not to worry or be on guard, have to protect or fight or think...just drive along through the dark with the man you l - ...

She sat up straight and glared at Spike. The wind had tousled his normally severe blond hair into a riot of little curls. “You’re very quiet,” she said suspiciously. “What are you thinking about?”

“How pretty you look in that dress!“

Buffy began to smile and then decided not to. She really didn’t need to encourage him any more than was necessary. “What present did you bring for your cousin?” she asked, changing the subject.

Spike glanced towards her, concerned, and their speed increased as his boot hit the gas. “I thought you’d take care of that.”

Buffy could have hit him. “Spike, she’s your cousin! I don’t know Arabella, remember? How would I know what to buy her?”

Spike shrugged. “It’s a girl sort of thing, isn’t it? I bought some booze,” he said helpfully, nodding at the back seat.

Buffy twisted round. There was a box of - good heavens – “Spike, that’s champagne!”

“Anniversary party. What else would I bring?“

“How about beer or whisky? It‘s what you usually turn up with.” Buffy felt strangely miffed. Cousin Arabella obviously meant far more to Spike than he was letting on. Not that she’d have wanted him to supply champagne when they were - well together was not quite the right word - but would have to do because she couldn’t think of another one right now. “This Div’vid, her husband – ”

“Regurgitating demon,” Spike said, nodding. “Told you, nice bloke.”

“Ewww and yes, you did, but is he English, too?”

“Certainly is! Spawned in Manchester. That’s in the north west of England,” he said patiently, realising that geography of his home country was never going to be his beloved’s strongest point. “Arabella had left London after I....well, after I....”

“Turned her!” Buffy said flatly.

“Hey, vampire. It’s what I did. Anyway, she went north and met Dav’vid in a cemetery at some initiation ceremony for regurgitators and they fell in love.”

Buffy blanked the image of that firmly from her mind. “And they won’t mind me being the Slayer?” she asked. “Let’s face it, not your usual party guest.”

Spike’s foot went down on the gas again, heavily and the car roared faster. They were way out in the desert now and the black velvet night surrounded them. There were no lights anywhere, just the road unfolding in front of them.

“Slow down!” Buffy squeaked. “I told you, no speeding!”

Spike eased off then said, with what she could only call a wheedle in his voice, “Actually, pet, they don’t know about you and me.”

“There’s nothing to know!” Buffy shot back, bristling. “We’re just...”

“Lovers?”

“Certainly not! Well, yes, there’s sex involved, admittedly – ” Buffy gasped as he slid his hand under her bare thigh where the white silk dress had rucked up. “Stop it,” she whispered.

“Make me!”

She opened her legs and felt his fingers slide higher. Then she crossed her legs hard and giggled at the look of pain that appeared on his face as his wrist became bent at a very odd angle.

“You’re asking for trouble, Missy,” he growled but didn’t pull away.

“So, Arabella and Div’vid don’t know that you’ve an - acquaintance - who’s the Slayer?”

“That’s right. Actually, they think I’m still with Dru.”

Buffy stared at him. This night was getting weirder and weirder. Here she was, driving in a stolen car with vampire who was making love to her with one hand while he steered with the other, on her way to meet his cousin and a very nasty sounding demon and they didn’t even know she was coming....and oh god, she was, she was, she was... She felt herself arch off the seat and uncrossed her legs to get every last ounce of sensation. She had a mad desire to bury her head in his lap and return the favour, but while he was driving? Possibly not the best idea she’d ever had.

“So, who am I then?” she gasped. “Someone you’ve just picked up on the way!”

“I thought we needn’t mention the whole Chosen-One-Slayer-of-Vampires-and-demons’ bit.”

Buffy shook her head in disbelief. She tended to forget that Spike wasn’t just a vampire, he was a male, first and foremost. And from all she’d learnt from the guys she’d known, they weren’t big on verbal communication. She’d watched Xander and Oz sit together for hours, saying no more than a couple of words. Even Giles, as much as she loved him, had the ability to not talk about what other people meant to each other. Half the time he wasn’t even curious.

But girls were different. How could Spike possibly imagine that Arabella wasn’t going to want to get Buffy into a corner at the first opportunity and find out everything about her relationship to Spike? Did he, after all these years, have no idea how women reacted to other women? He’d been with Dru forever and Harmony - who okay, not the brightest button in the box, but at least all female. And he’d known Cordelia quite well, Willow, Tara, Anya, even Dawn.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to lie about who I am.”

Spike looked irritated. “Okay, but no fighting. No slaying.”

Buffy looked at him in astonishment. “Are you ashamed of me?” she spluttered. “Ashamed to introduce me to one of your family?”

“You’re ashamed of me,” came the quiet reply. “You don’t want your friends to know about us.”

“That’s different. And there is no ‘us’. And I introduced you to my mother.”

“Hey, Joyce introduced herself to me, remember. In school, axe on head, ‘nobody lays a hand on my little girl!’” He smirked. “Bit late for that remark, now, of course.”

“Pig! Double pig!”

“Anyway, Joyce liked me and I liked Joyce. She wouldn’t have minded us being together.”

He stamped down on he gas again and this time Buffy said nothing as the car shot forward. She fought against it, but knew in her heart of hearts that he was right. For some weird reason, her mom had liked Spike, had never been scared of him, had seen something in him that no one else had, in the way mothers often do. Her mother had disliked Angel and liked Spike. It was very odd.

Spike’s lips twitched. “We sound like an old married couple, Slayer. Bickering about family and relations.”

Buffy tried to keep a straight face, then smiled back. “Okay, I’ll play the game your way,” she said. “I promise not to stake anybody or anything, unless I’m attacked. Deal?”

“Deal!”

“Right, now for goodness sake, stop when you see a gas station with a shop of some sort. Or any place where I can at least buy some flowers for your cousin. I’m not arriving without a present.”

“Right, Arabella will like that.”

And Buffy stared out at the dark night, wondering what else Arabella liked, especially if that included her kissing cousin, William.

to be continued


	2. "Where's Drusilla?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy meets the beautiful - and deadly - Arabella and insists she is not jealous.

Spike swung the ‘borrowed’ car through a pair of ornate iron gates, narrowly missing a couple of bright blue demons with frilly heads and powered on up the driveway towards what Buffy could only describe as a mansion.

She gasped as the house came into sight. “Spike, it’s vast. Like a palace. How rich is your cousin?”

Spike shrugged and parked the car with a flourish. “Regurgitating demons are always well off, pet. Nice guys, but you need them on your side. They have money and power. Bit like the English aristocracy. Div’vid’s always had cash to burn and Arabella came from the wealthy side of my family. My parents were the poorer branch - hers were wealthy. I suppose when I - well, when the rest of the family died! - she inherited the lot. And being turned never stopped her making good investments. She was always good with money was Arabella.”

Buffy shook her head. Somehow the straightforward way Spike spoke about vampire life always intrigued her. She was sure Giles had no notes about vampire finances in his vast array of reference books. Perhaps she should take notes! Getting out of the car, she smoothed down the skirt of her white and red dress, feeling the creases where Spike had scrunched it as he’d plunged his fingers inside her only minutes before. She bit her lip. Oh god, it had been so good. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she feel a single thing for anyone else in her world, but for Spike she was like a bitch on heat, aching for him with every fibre of her being.

Buffy looked up and caught the vampire gazing at her, his eyes a bright sapphire. His nostrils flared slightly and she knew he’d scented her arousal again. For one delirious second she thought he was going to throw her across the hood of the car and take her there and then, but he obviously realised there were just too many people – well demons - about. Without saying a word, he lifted a finger to his mouth and sucked at it. She felt the hot colour flare into her cheeks. How dare he! 

“Later, Slayer,” he promised, reading her mind again and leant inside the car to hoist up the crate of champagne from the back seat. Quick as a flash, Buffy stepped up behind him and ran her hands down the front of his dark jeans. She giggled as she heard him curse and felt the erection straining immediately against the fabric.

That would teach him to play games with her! Sometimes she felt he was entirely too ‘cocky’ for his own good! She swung away before he could do anything more and made her way up the stone steps to the grand portico entrance. She heard him muttering behind her and felt a thrill of anticipation run over her body. Oh she would pay for that, she knew only too well. She could only guess at how he would make her pay and her guesses were never as explicit or as exciting as the real thing.

“Just you wait, Goldilocks,” he growled in her ear, leaping up the last few steps until he was at her side. “You are going to – ”

“William! How lovely to see you. It’s been so long.”

Buffy stared in amazement. A woman was hurrying towards them across the marble floored entrance hall. She wasn’t pretty, she wasn’t even attractive, no - she was stunningly beautiful! Her long, chestnut brown hair was caught up in a complicated knot at the back of her head and curls, laced through with tiny white flowers, hung down onto her smooth shoulders. She had that English cream and roses complexion that needs hardly any make-up to enhance it. Her eyes were huge, bright blue like Spike’s and rimmed with what looked like a double layer of natural black lashes.  
She was wearing a dark blue velvet dress that hugged every centimetre of her body in a tight embrace. If she was wearing anything underneath it, Buffy would have been astounded.

The skin of the back of Buffy’s neck began to tingle and her hand itched to pull a stake from her purse. This had to be Arabella, a vampire, married to a regurgitating Frovlax demon and Spike’s cousin.

She brushed past Buffy as if she didn’t exist, wound her pale arms round Spike’s neck and kissed him on the lips. Buffy wondered if her promise to Spike not to kill anyone at the party could be conveniently forgotten. Perhaps she could say she’d had a lapse of memory as Arabella dissolved into dust.

“Bella, pet. You look marvellous. You’ve done something wonderful to your hair. I like it. And that dress is fabulous. You always look good in blue.”

Oh great! It was a fashion contest now! Buffy pushed her fingers through the amber tangles that were all that was left of her hairstyle after Spike’s fingers had made inroads into it. She glanced around. Was there a cloakroom, a restroom, somewhere she could at least begin to make herself presentable?

“William, it’s so good to see you. But where’s Drusilla? Haven’t you brought her with you? I know we had that little disagreement about the puppies, but they were mine to eat, not hers and it was fifty years ago now, for goodness sake. Surely she’s not still holding a grudge?”

“Er...well, Bella, I’m not with Dru anymore. We broke up.”

“William! That’s dreadful. You seemed an ideal couple. Hopefully it’s just a short break. I just can’t imagine you without each other. What did Angel say about it? You do still see Liam, don’t you? You were always such friends. Such a sweetie, all that Irish blarney. And Darla? I miss the old gang. We had such fun. Div’vid is such an old stick in the mud about things like killing and feeding. But then Frovlaxes are such puritans, aren’t they? I think it’s because he’s a vegetarian. I have trouble understanding people who only eat vegetables. I love him dearly, but the poor old darling has no experience of having a good time.”

“I’ve no idea what the Mick poofter is up to,” Spike snapped, unwinding her arms from around his neck.

Buffy grinned to herself. If there was one way of annoying Spike, Arabella had just found it. He hated to have Angel’s name mentioned, unless it was in a thoroughly nasty way.

“I’ve come with my friend Buffy here.” Spike waved a hand in Buffy’s direction. 

Arabella spun round and that brilliant blue gaze shot through Buffy as if she was made of tissue paper. She tilted her head, her lips thinned and Buffy knew with certainty that she could smell Spike on her and could guess exactly what they’d been doing on the way to the party. Buffy shuddered. Where Spike’s eyes were a warm sapphire, this woman’s were glacier cold. 

“How very nice to meet you - er, Buffy, is it. What a very - American - sort of name. But charming, very sweet, very young. How good of you to accompany poor William to our little party. I do hope it won’t be too boring for you. I can imagine he isn’t very good company without dear Drusilla. They were so in love. But then, perhaps you don’t know a lot about strong emotions.”

The accent was very English, more clipped than Giles’. Her tone was one that made Buffy long to punch her on her dainty little nose. How could this, this bitch be related to Spike? And if she called him William once more in that ‘why can’t we go to bed together straight away’ voice, Buffy would punch her. With a stake in her hand!

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Buffy replied equally sweetly. “I’m afraid Spike didn’t tell me your name. But then we’ve been rather – ” she laughed in what she hoped was a sexy manner – “preoccupied. I’m sure I don’t have to spell out how for you. I know you’re almost as old as Spike, but I guess you can still imagine what we’ve been doing, even if you don’t partake yourself anymore.”

Arabella’s face went still and for a fleeting second, Buffy could have sworn the blue eyes gleamed golden and a ripple crossed her features as her game face fought to come through the beautiful mask. Buffy could see the alarm on Spike’s face and he’d just stepped forward to intervene, when,

“Spike, if it isn’t my old mate! How goes it, old boy?”

A dark green demon who stood at least seven feet tall, appeared in the hallway, carrying a giant mug of beer in a huge cloven hand. He had the big brown velvet eyes and pretty ears of a very nice cow. 

“Div’vid! Good to see you. Is that Bishop’s Finger beer I can smell. Marvellous! I haven’t tasted that for years. Show me where I can dump this fizzy pissy stuff and then get me a pint. Oh, Div’vid, let me introduce you to Buffy. Er, she’s - she’s a friend of mine.”

Buffy’s hand disappeared into an emerald clasp twice the size of hers. She looked up into sad brown eyes and found herself smiling. She sensed she could like this Div’vid, although if he started rechewing his food, she might throw up herself, but, hey, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

“Come in, come in , both of you. Meet some friends. Have some food. A drink. It’s going to be a great evening.”

And towing Buffy behind him, the jolly green giant headed for what Buffy could only call a ballroom. Yards long, chandeliers sparkling, an orchestra playing and demons and vampires dancing in a glitter of beautiful dresses and different coloured feathers, skins and scales. She turned to speak to Spike, but the words died on her lips. Cousin Arabella had her arm round his waist and was whispering intimately into his ear. Buffy took a deep breath. She had the feeling it was going to be a very long night.

Buffy’s eyes widened in amazement as they entered the mansion’s vast ballroom. It was like something out of a fairy-tale, or a Hollywood movie. Chandeliers sparkled, the wooden floor gleamed; people - well, a mixture of weird demons and - if her senses were accurate - a good proportion of vampires, were standing in little groups, drinking champagne and nibbling on little goodies handed round by a battalion of small, bright pink demons covered in fluffy fur, squeaking at each other indignantly when they got in each other’s way.

There was a group playing soft jazz on a balcony, the music almost drowned by the chatter, squeaking, growling, hissing and general noise of the guests beneath them. And to Buffy’s horror, she realised she was the only woman wearing a short dress! Every other female - even those with horns and tails - was in full evening gear. She gulped and removed a glass of pink champagne swiftly from a tray as it went past her. She needed a drink! There were so many demons and vampires in this room that her sensory system had gone into overdrive.

“Ah, you’ve some champers. Great!” It was Div’vid.

Buffy smiled up and up at him. This was a big demon! But his eyes were so soft, velvety brown and his little ears so pretty, she couldn’t get too worked up about him. “Yes, thank you. What a beautiful house.”

Div’vid smiled warmly. “Thank you, Miss Buffy. I’m so glad you like it. I always feel it’s nice to have - space - to move in, don’t you?” His giant, emerald green hand swung expansively round, almost decapitating one of his guests.

Buffy nodded nervously and glanced around for Spike. Where the hell was he? And where was Miss Poison Ivy, his cousin Arabella? There was no sign of them. Not that she cared, she told herself, as she chatted to Div’vid, listening as he told her how he’d come to America from England, how difficult it was to grow roses in the desert, how much his beloved wife missed her home land.

‘Why doesn‘t she go back?’ Buffy asked silently, wishing that Arabella could be on the next jet out of Los Angeles. She peered over her shoulder again. Still no sign of the cousins. She gulped down another mouthful of pink champagne and nodded as one of the fluffy pink demons offered to fill her glass.

They were probably upstairs having a nice-to-see-you-after-all-this-time-shag, she thought and wondered why she cared. She hated Spike. OK, she liked what he did to her. She shuddered as the icy champagne hit her throat. OK, understatement of the year, here. She loved what he did to her, what she did to him, but she didn’t like him! So, if he was shagging Arabella, then that just proved what an evil, immoral thing he was, especially as he’d seemed to like Div’vid, his cousin’s husband and his host for the evening.

“So, you and William - you’re - together?” Div’vid was obviously trying to be tactful.

“Not so much, more like - we work together sometimes.”

“Oh work colleagues. Nice. But – ” he smiled down at her and waggled his ears suggestively. “I can sense you’re much more than that! I may only be a mere Frovlax, but even I can sense when a couple have been - well, shall we say close. It’s the smell, you know. And I must say, I’m pleased. To be truthful – ” he glanced round, as nervous as a seven foot Frovlax Demon could be – “I never really liked Drusilla. Charming woman when she wanted to be, but - well - complicated. And there was all that business with the puppies - Still, you two seem well suited. I’d like to see William settled with a nice girl – ”

“Oh, no, you don’t understand. You see we’re just – ” Buffy tried to stop, appalled at the words which were escaping from her mouth, but she couldn’t prevent them – “we’re just good friends.”

A giant emerald hand patted her on the head and a mooing laugh made the chandeliers above them ring and dance. Then, luckily, Div’vid was distracted by another late guest arriving. Buffy pushed her way through the crowd, her fingers itching to pull a stake out of her purse and dispatch half of them. She was going to kill Spike when she next saw him. How dare he make her say that, but what else could she have told Div’vid?

Oh no, I’m the Slayer and I’ve recently been dead but now I’m back and I kill demons and vampires, and, by the way, I’m using Spike for sex because only then do I feel anything. And I’m only here because...because.... Because you wanted a night out with Spike, a voice in her head said. You wanted to go out as a couple because every minute you spend with him makes you feel hot. And when you’re not with him, you have all those little itches he talks to you about in the dark, the ones only he can scratch! 

Out in the hall, a wide staircase curved graciously up to the first floor. Buffy made her way up it; she needed a bathroom badly, although there was no way she was going to be able to make her white silk dress turn into a full-length evening gown. “I’ll kill him! Then I’ll kill him all over again,” she muttered. Why hadn’t he told her it was a formal evening? She was sure everyone was looking at her. They probably thought she was some sort of poor relation and being pitied by a group of vamps and demons was not how she’d expected to spend the evening

After she’d pulled a comb through her tangled hair and found a lip gloss to repair some of the damage Spike had done to her mouth on their journey here, she felt a little more human. Which, she reckoned, was some sort of record in this house this evening! Buffy hesitated as she came back out into the corridor. It was such a wonderful place. She’d love to see more of it. Surely no one would mind if she just wandered about a bit and it would save her having to go downstairs on her own again. She sighed, wishing that Xander and Willow were here. They’d have a laugh together at how out of place they all were, Willow would make marvellously bitchy remarks about Arabella and Xander would probably be hauled off to a bedroom by some femme fatale demon lady.

As she turned a corner, a familiar voice caught her attention. Buffy stopped and peered through a half-open bedroom door. Spike was sitting on a king-sized bed, his back to the door. He was holding Arabella in his arms and her head was buried in the crease of his neck, her fingers playing with the little platinum curls that feathered his ears. Her long brown curls cascaded across his arm and back and catching sight of Buffy in the doorway, she smiled, slowly, licked her lips lasciviously and vamped out as she ran her other hand possessively down his back.

Buffy froze as the icy champagne rose up in the back of her throat and she wanted to be sick. She forced herself to move; she needed fresh air. One step, then another - concentrate on walking steadily, carefully, don’t think about anything but getting out of the house. You’re just a little bit tipsy, that‘s all. You’re not upset about what you’ve just seen. Why should you be upset? Spike’s an evil thing and evil things do evil things. It’s all very straightforward.

She collected another glass of champagne as she crossed the ballroom. People were dancing now and she could see Div’vid looking round everywhere, obviously searching for his wife. Hey, Div‘vid, she felt like shouting. She’s upstairs with Spike and the two of them are giving a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘kissing cousins’. But she couldn’t do that. He was such a sweet demon but she had a nasty feeling that if crossed, a charging bull would have nothing on him. Not that she cared if he trampled Spike into tiny, weeny, dust particles, she thought, but she still had to get home and Spike had the car keys!

At the side of the ballroom, wide glass windows lead out onto a marble terrace. Buffy slipped outside. It was cooler, the breeze soft against her burning cheeks. Her hands were hurting and she gazed down in amazement to find a row of blood crescents where her nails had dug into her palms.  
Jeez, she so needed to go home. She needed to go now! She wondered if she could ring for a cab. But that would be so expensive and she didn’t have any money. Suddely the hairs on the back of her neck wriggled and she knew, without turning, who was standing behind her.

“There you are, Goldilocks. I’ve been looking for you.” Spike with a tankard of beer in his hand. “Having a good time?”

Buffy took a deep breath, determined not to let him see how upset she was. “Yes, thank you. Lovely party. Lots of interesting - well, lots of interesting peoply things. And you? Have you caught up with all the family - gossip?”

Spike leant against the stone balustrade that ran the length of the terrace and took a deep swig of beer. “She’s great, Bella, isn’t she? Have you had a chance to chat yet? I know she wants to talk to you.”

Buffy looked at him blankly. What was it about men - be they dead or alive - that they completely missed the reaction between two women - again, alive or dead - when they met? She and Arabella had hated each other on sight and always would. How could they have a ‘nice chat’? But here was Spike, looking at her, almost eagerly, with a ridiculous piece of white beer foam stuck to his top lip just asking to be licked off.

“She’s been too busy with you to bother about me,” she replied sweetly.

Spike raised an eyebrow at her. “Miaow!” he said with a grin. “Pull your claws in, Slayer. You’ll make a guy think you might be jealous of me sharing my time with another woman.”

Buffy felt her skin flaming with indignation. She took another large sip of pink champagne. Goodness, this was a nice drink. Why did everyone say it made you tipsy? It was just like lemonade. “Jealous, of you? In your dreams, bleach boy. I’m only here because... because...” she hesitated. She couldn’t actually remember why she was here. “If you want to shag your cousin, then be my guest.”

Spike frowned, the smile vanishing from his blue eyes. “Shag Bella? What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Do you want me to draw you a picture?” Buffy snapped. “I don’t care if the two of you are doing it like rabbits, but I think it’s tacky in Div’vid’s house because he seems like a really nice guy and anyway, I object to being used as a smoke-screen for your sordid affairs. So give me the car keys, now! I’m going home.”

to be continued

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
   
 


	3. As a newt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy learns more about Arabella's relationship with Spike than she needs to know.

So far:

The party given by Spike’s cousin is turning out to be a disaster for Buffy. Too much champagne, too much jealousy and too much Arabella.... She wants to go home.

 

Chapter3: As a Newt

Spike gazed at Buffy as if she’d just grown two heads - which let's face it, she thought, wouldn’t be that odd in this house tonight. There were some very odd demons at the party his cousin was giving for her wedding anniversary.

“You want the car keys? You’re going to drive back to Sunnydale? What planet are you living on, pet?”

“Oh, right, trust you to think I can’t drive!” she snapped. “I can drive, as long as I don’t have to turn left too many times.”

“Forget driving anywhere, Slayer. You’re pissed as a newt. You must be to say that about me shagging Bella. Bloody hell! She’s my cousin, for god’s sake.”

Buffy took a step back. This was a Spike she hadn’t seen for ages, angry, growling, his muscles tensed. She frowned and took a step forward again. She would not back down to him. “You were cuddling Arabella upstairs in one of the bedrooms. I saw you. And anyway, how can a newt get pissed! What is pissed?”

“Sloshed. Drunk. Legless,” Spike said impatiently. “Buffy, I don’t know what you saw, but OK, Bella’s had a few problems lately with Div’vid and she wanted a shoulder to cry on. That’s all. Bollocks, Slayer, you’ve had problems with the men in your life enough to know what that’s like, surely? Remember Peaches, all that young love ending in death and him walking away to brood endlessly in L.A. What about soldier boy flying off to hunt down demons in South America? I told you once, years ago, you’ve got bloody awful taste in men, so you should have some sympathy for Bella. And anyway, why should it matter to you what I’m doing? You keep on telling me I mean nothing to you.”

“I hate and despise you!”

Spike grinned and prowled towards her. “But I’m the only one who can make you scream, though, aren’t I, Slayer?”

“Go away!” Buffy pushed half-heartedly at his chest, but the champagne glass got in the way and she dropped it to the floor where it smashed, unnoticed, as he pulled her roughly into his arms and kissed her. Suddenly, she found some strength and heaved herself away. “Uggh. You smell of Arabella’s perfume. I’m not - well, I’m not doing anything - I’m not coming near you till you’ve had a shower, Spike.”

He reached out a long arm and touched one fingertip to where a nipple was poking against the white silk dress. “Really?”

She gasped and fought against the desire to grab at the buckle of his trousers. “Really.”

“OK!” 

The evil, rotten thing. He was walking away, grinning. How dare he! 

“I’ve got to go and find Div’vid. I need to have words with him about Bella. There might have been some sort of a misunderstanding. Go and have something to eat, pet. That champagne has gone to your head big time. I won’t be long.”

Buffy glared at his retreating back. If she‘d had the strength, she would have thrown the stake in her purse straight through his evil dead heart and that would have been the end of - well, the end of everything, a voice in her head said.

“He wanted to marry me, you know.” A soft English voice sounded from the darkness and Arabella glided out onto the terrace, the skirt of her long, royal blue velvet dress whispering over the marble floor. 

Buffy felt the warm bubbly feeling of the champagne leave her system and icy water replace it. “Marry you?”

“Oh yes. When we were teenagers. Can you picture William as a teenager? He was such a soft, ineffectual young man. But he loved me. He proposed one Christmas Eve. We must have been about seventeen, I suppose. It was very romantic; he gave me a ring out of a Christmas cracker.”

“Did you accept it?” Buffy’s voice sounded very small and far away.

“Oh no, my dear. I thought he was the biggest idiot in Christendom. Of course, if I’d known what was going to happen in the years to come, I’d have said yes as fast as I could.”

Buffy stared at the beautiful vampire. The cheekbones and eyes were so like Spike’s, but harder, colder. “Did you tell him what you felt about him?” She leant against a marble pillar, the icy stone pleasant against her fevered body.

“Of course not. We were just silly children; I was his little cousin. A few years later, he fell for a silly, snooty girl called Cecily. He was completely besotted. I could never understand why. I hated her. She was very mean to William. Then, of course, Drusilla appeared on the scene and Liam and Darla and everything changed. William changed. And he came to the house one night....” There was a long pause. Arabella gazed out into the darkness of the desert and said in a faraway voice, “It’s always so hot here. I want to grow roses, but Div’vid says the climate’s wrong.”

Buffy broke in. “Spike sired you?”

“Oh my dear, how crude you Americans are. How to the point. But, yes, he did. He came to our house, killed my parents, my sister and my two brothers but not me. He said it was because I was so beautiful he couldn’t bear to see me grow old and die. I wanted to die - until he turned me - then, somehow, I just wanted him.”

“Did he want you to be his wife when you became a vampire?” An unwelcome emotion was beginning to creep over her. She hated Arabella just as much as before, but - she was astonished to find she was starting to feel sorry for her in some bizarre way. She could imagine how terrifying it must have been - your family lying dead before you and the meek and mild cousin you had vaguely despised changed into a vampire who could turn your body into molten metal with one look.

Arabella turned and smiled, flicking back her long dark curls, her eyes sparkling like ice. “Well, I would have been more than happy, but , alas, there was - Drusilla. Have you ever met her?”

Buffy nodded.

“Really? And you’re still alive?” Her expression sharpened for a second or two, then the dreamy look returned to her face. “Perhaps she never saw you as a real threat. A little American girl, no offence, but no contest. It was Darla who warned me off, actually. Not Dru. Made it very plain that I wasn’t wanted in their cosy little foursome. She was the one with all the power; she would have killed me like squashing a bug if I had got in her way.”

Buffy shivered. “Spike didn’t know?”

Arabella laughed softly. “He might be a very evil vampire, rampaging across Europe and the world, laying all to waste, but he’s still a mere man at heart. Have you ever known one of them who fully understood that it’s us women who organise their day to day lives?”

“What did you do?” Buffy asked, curious despite herself. 

Arabella reached up to pull out one of the tiny white flowers that starred in her hair. She twirled it round in her fingers like a tiny parasol. “Do? Oh, I had to make a decision. There I was, completely alone, newly turned, my family dead and the man who killed them, the man who turned me, preferred to be with a mad woman, an Irish killer and his whore. What would you have done, Miss Summers, I wonder?”

Buffy shuddered. It was hard to remember that Spike had done all these things. But she knew he had. Knew. too, that she must never forget it. “I don’t know. You could have staked yourself, I suppose. Or let someone else stake you.”

Arabella burst out laughing. “Oh, how sweet. What a priceless idea. I can begin to see why my William is so smitten with you.”

“Smitten?” Buffy felt a hot flush cross her body, felt her anger begin to stir at the words, ‘My William.’ “That’s not true. We’re just – ”

“Whatever you are, please don’t say you’re just good friends!”

“Don’t you think Spike could be a good friend?”

“I’m sure he could be an absolute prince of a friend, but he isn’t yours. No, his feelings for you are not based on friendship. Nor are yours for him. He can smell the scents you arouse in each other. So can I. And so can every demon and vampire here tonight.”

Buffy shuddered again. 

“But we’re digressing. You asked me what I did. Well, I ran around with a bad crowd for a few years, had a few lovers, went to live in France which would have been heavenly except it was full of French people. I was waiting, of course, for William to tire of Drusilla.”

“But he didn’t,” Buffy said heavily, gazing at the beautiful face in front of her.

“He didn’t! Then I began to realise just how alone in the world I was. I had no money, no home, no hope of any sort of future. So I made the sort of choice lots of girls of my time were forced to make. I married for security, for money, for a name and for convenience.”

“Div’vid.”

“Yes. A seven foot tall, bright green, regurgitating Frovlax demon. He and William were friends. He’d been pestering me to marry him for years - and so I did.”

Buffy hesitated. Then, “He seems very nice.”

Arabella swung round, eyes snapping with golden lights, her face vamping out and then back again in temper. “Nice! He’s a regurgitating demon. Do you have any idea what that means? No, of course you don’t. He brings back his half digested food and chews it again after every meal. He won’t eat meat, only greens and grass and oats and porridge and fruit. And there’s a smell - all the time, in bed, while we make love, at the table, in every room, there’s a smell that’s so bad - Oh tonight he’s fine. But then he hasn’t eaten for three days just to be okay for the party. When everyone goes, he’ll eat tons of stuff and then I’ll have to go to bed and - But, as you say, he’s very nice! That’s what everyone said - how lucky I was to catch such a prize. Because he’s rich and kind and why was I waiting for a man who would never come back.”

“But now Spike has come back and he’s on his own; Drusilla has gone,” Buffy said tersely, trying to push the pity out of her mind and let the hatred remain. Because she could sense that all these confessions were being made for a reason.

Arabella’s expression changed and suddenly her beauty looked almost ugly. “Oh yes, my dear, as you so rightly say, he’s back and Dru has gone. And the one thing I know I can rely on is William’s sense of duty to his family and his own stupid, fool-hardy chivalry where women and love are concerned.”

All of Buffy’s built in alarm systems went off at once. She grabbed Arabella’s arm. “What have you done? All this chat, all these confessions, it’s a smoke-screen, isn’t it? Why are you trying to keep me here? Where has Spike gone?”

Arabella laughed. “It’s quite simple to understand, Miss Summers, even for a colonial such as yourself. But I’ll spell it out to you in big letters if that will help. I want William, I’ve always wanted him, but I’m married to Div’vid. So, Div’vid must die. And William will kill him. I’ve told him how intolerable my life has been recently. I’ve, well, I’m afraid I’ve embroidered a little, here and there, mentioned other women, the sort of things that bring out the old William’s gallantry. He’s gone to confront Div. My husband has the short temper of all Frovlax demons and he’s also insanely jealous. He’ll think William and I have been having an affair, he’ll attack William and William will kill him.”

She looked at Buffy’s appalled face and shook off her hand. “There, you see, Miss Summers, it really isn’t complicated, is it? When I want something, I get it, no matter how many centuries I have to wait. I want William. And I know, only too well, that William will do anything, anything at all,for his Cousin Arabella.”

to be continued.


	4. One for the Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy saves Spike, kisses Div, admires Arabella and starts a demon fight.

   
Chp : One for the Girls

 

The hardest thing to do in this life isn’t living it, thought Buffy grimly remembering those words, it’s not staking someone who needs staking! She hadn’t bothered to stop and argue with Arabella - all she knew was that she had to find Spike before he began fighting with Div’vid. He had no idea his cousin had set him up to kill her husband.

“Stupid vampire, he’ll get himself dusted!” she gasped as she raced across the ballroom, dodging past dancing demons and vampires. “Sorry - excuse me! Oh was that your feet? I’m so sorry, you do have another ten, don’t you. Oh! Your horns - will they grow again? Oh, can I squeeze past, thank you, mind your tails, excuse me!”

She didn’t have any idea how dangerous Frovlax demons were, but Div’vid was over seven feet tall with cloven hands the size of meat plates. One swing of his arm could knock Spike’s stupid head right off. ‘And serve him right. Falling for a sob story from a bitch like that! Why do men always get taken in by big eyes and trembling lips?’

Out in the vast marble hall, she paused. Where on earth would they be? Then she heard the sound of raised voices in a room nearby and racing across to the door, she flung it open. Spike and Div’vid were standing on either side of a pool table, cues in hand. Whatever had been said, there was now a tense, angry silence you could cut with a knife.

Buffy didn’t wait to ask. She grabbed Spike’s arm and pulled him towards the door. “Hi, there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You don’t mind if I steal him away, do you, Div’vid? I’ve been wanting to dance for ages and now they’re playing our tune.”

“We have a tune?” Spike stared at her as if she’d gone crazy.

Buffy forced herself to laugh gaily. “Don’t tease, sweetheart, of course we have a tune. Don’t you always tell me that we’ve been dancing ever since we met?”

“Go, William,” Div’vid in his deep mooing tones. “We’ll finish this odd conversation later. I think I must have misheard what you said - ”

“What I said was - ”

“Spike!” Buffy grabbed his hand and held it to her breast. She watched the surprise and desire flare in his eyes as his fingers closed over the bud of her nipple. “Listen to my heart beating. I want to dance now!”

Within seconds she’d pulled him into the ballroom. It wasn’t until she had her arms tightly round him, holding him close to her and could feel one of his hands tangle in her hair and the other stroking the silk covering her thigh that she could relax. The music was slow and dreamy. For a few minutes they swayed together, their bodies moulding as if they had minds of their own, separate to the ones that controlled them normally. Buffy sighed and realised the tension in her shoulders was going. As long as she could keep him away from Div’vid all would be well. And this was the first time this evening that she’d felt really happy. However they danced together, be it to the beat of the music or the beat of sex, they were so well matched it was uncanny.

“Buffy, this is great, but what was so urgent that you had to kidnap me,” Spike murmured in her ear. “I know you crave my body, but, hey, you can have it all in an hour or so, Slayer. Every last glorious inch of it. And you know how many inches that is!”

“Shut up, Spike. Just dance.”

He pulled away from her slightly and she fought back the grumble that forced itself to her lips as his body formed a gap with hers. “Has something happened? Trouble? I can’t imagine something’s attacked you, or else there’d be body parts littering the bleedin’ floor.”

She bit her lip. She felt she was treading on egg- shells now. Whatever Arabella was, whatever she’d done, she was still Spike’s cousin, family, and he seemed oblivious of her true nature. How on earth did she tell him that Arabella wanted him and was using him to get rid of her husband? “What were you arguing about with Div’vid?” she asked cautiously.

“Arguing? Oh. Stupid wanker demon’s upset Arabella in some way. Should know better on their anniversary. I wanted him to explain what the hell he’s been doing. There’s some demon girl involved, apparently. Still, I remember missing Dru’s birthday one year and...”

“Can we ’not’ talk about mad ex girlfriend!”

Spike grinned, blue eyes sparkling. “Sorry, pet. Don’t get your knickers in a twist - oh, forgot, you’re not wearing any tonight, are you!”

She glared at him, hating the hot, slow flush of blood she could feel coursing through her body. Why did he affect her in this way? It just wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t she feel like this for some nice, normal, sensible, living guy?

“Spike - about Arabella. She wants....she told me.....” Jeez, this was hard. Ridiculously hard. It was only Spike. He was a vampire, he didn’t have deep feelings. So, she’d just come right out and tell him his cousin was a devious, man grabbing bitch. There, that was easy. All she had to do was put that thought into words!

“She wants to go home.” Spike spoke before she could and sounded almost sad.

“Excuse me?”

“Whether Bella realises it or not, she needs to go back to England: she misses it. That’s her main problem. Div’vid has dragged her round the world for over a century. This place is okay, but it isn’t home. She’s bored; she’s got nothing to do.”

Buffy stared up at him. Of course she knew Spike was English but somehow she’d never given it a proper thought. Was he homesick? “Do you feel like that? Would you rather live over there than here in California?”

He raised an eyebrow at her and pulled her tight as the lights dimmed a little more. “I make my home wherever I go, pet. Oh I miss the usual things every Englishman does when he’s abroad, even though I’m a vamp. Thick cut marmalade, proper hot custard on spotted dick, Marmite on toast, buttered crumpets, bangers and mash, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding - ”

“Spike! Stop being all Julie Andrews. You’ll be going on about whiskers on kittens next. You’re a vampire! You drink blood. Why is everything you miss to do with food?”

He ran a finger slowly down the length of her spine and she shuddered. “Not just the whiskers on kittens, luv, but the kittens themselves! But there are other things, Slayer. Football on Saturday afternoons, rain, Spring mornings, blackbirds singing at dusk in a rose garden - ” He stopped abruptly, then, “But as nice as that would be, you wouldn’t be there, would you, Slayer. So life would be just a little bit dull.”

Buffy stared at him in exasperation. She didn’t want to think that Spike had feelings like that. Evil thing. Evil thing, she kept saying desperately inside her head. I have to remember he’s an evil thing.

“So, what has Arabella been saying to you?” he said softly, swinging her round in a tight circle to avoid a couple of demons who were - well, Buffy had thought they were dancing, but some of their tentacles were actually inside each other’s bodies, so - ewwwww! Get a cave or a pit, or something!

“She’s very fond of you,” she replied cautiously.

“Family, love. What’s the old saying, home’s the place that when you go there they have to let you in. I got rid of my family. Only excuse was I was very young and Dru and Peaches were very persuasive. Arabella’s all that’s left.”

“I like Div’vid,” Buffy said, trying desperately to come to the problem from another angle.

“He’s a good bloke, but he’s always been one for the girls,” Spike said tersely, his hands tightening on her waist. “That’s one of the problems Bella has. He can’t keep away from the local talent apparently.”

“Miss Summers! William, do you mind? May I cut in. My dance, now, I think.” It was Div’vid himself, all seven foot of emerald green Frovlax Regurgitating demon, standing, holding out a giant paw, his sweet, brown, mournful cow’s eyes gazing down at her, his little ears twitching gently.

Before Buffy could object, he had swept her away from Spike and she felt herself lifted up and held gently against his massive chest, several inches above the dance floor. “Div’vid - ” she gasped. “Perhaps we can sit down and have a drink or - ”

“We need to talk, Miss Summers.” The soft brown eyes flashed red and she remembered that for all his sweet, cow-like geniality, Div’vid was all demon. “I want to talk about what’s going on between William and my wife.”

“Div’vid,” Buffy said, “Please, can we sit down. It’s really hard to concentrate when your feet aren’t on the ground.”

The demon stared down at the small blonde girl he held in his arms as they danced and realised her toes were a good six inches above the shining dance floor. “My deepest apologies, Miss Summers,” he boomed in his deep, cowlike voice and dropped her.

Buffy regained her balance and let him lead her away from the Ballroom, out into the cool garden. She glanced over her shoulder to see what Spike was doing. Her heart sank as she saw Arabella appear in a swish of blue velvet, link her arm through Spike’s and begin to dance. 

The marble terrace lead to a flight of steps that curved down into a formal garden with little gravel paths and a huge raised pond with a fountain of a leaping dolphin in the centre. The fine spray pattered down on the surface of the water and drifted into Buffy’s face, cooling her heated skin. She sat down the stone wall of the pond and Div’vid seated himself next to her. “Miss Summers - ”

"Oh, please, call me Buffy. Miss Summers sounds so - so old and creaky.”

“Buffy! That’s such a nice name.” His expression became as stern as a very nice cow can look. “ Now Buffy, I want to know what’s going on between my wife and William. How can he look elsewhere when he has such a lovely lady as yourself.”

Buffy bit her lip. “Spike - I’ve always called him Spike, you know - well, we’re not together - I mean, I know we’re here together, but he needed a partner for tonight and I wasn’t busy, and so – ”

Div’vid waved a huge emerald paw to stop her. “Buffy, I may only be a Frovlax, but even I can tell when people are in love.”

“In love!” Buffy spun round so fast that she almost fell backwards into the fountain. Div’vid’s huge hand caught her shoulder and held her fast.

‘We’re not - I’m not - well, he says he - but I don’t - ” She gazed into the deep velvety brown eyes and found her voice drying up. She was finding it impossible to say she didn’t love Spike. But that was ridiculous. She was the Slayer, Chosen One, a save the worldy, lurking in graveyards type person. He was an evil vampire. She killed vampires. Tonight was an exception, of course, but she was only here as a favour.

OK, he was chipped and harmless and occasionally helpful and very good at sex and sometimes she felt she would crawl over broken glass if it would make him touch her in a certain way he had, but in love - ? No, surely love was what she’d felt for Angel. It was trouble and problems, flowers and sighs and gazing out of windows waiting for him to appear. It was sighing and crying and all the urgent longing to hold hands and walk in the moonlight.

She’d never had any urge to hold hands with Spike. She knew exactly what she wanted his hands to do; she knew what she wanted to do to him. Oh God, did she know. She’d never imagined doing anything to Angel. She’d never known half of the things she and Spike did together even existed then!

But Angel had been her first love when she was so young, so immature. Spike was - Spike is your last love, your real love, a voice said in her head. Real love, Buffy suddenly realised was about connecting - not just hearts and flowers and anguish, but connecting on every level of your being. Angel had loved being in love, but had never tried to solve the problem that parted them. He just walked away from it. He loved the angst, the trauma, the pain. She knew with a complete certainty that if she and Spike ever faced a problem like that, he would go anywhere, do anything to try and make it work. And the shock of the truth speared through her in a red hot lance.

Div’vid was speaking again, ignoring her confusion. “Why does William try to take my Arabella away from me?”

“He isn’t. Jeez, he wouldn’t. He loves Arabella, but just as his cousin, as family. He’s very fond of her. He’s told me that.”

Div’vid looked at her. “Arabella has told me he has made certain - advances - towards her. Arabella would never lie.” His kind brown eyes suddenly gleamed red with demon light. “If I felt William had touched my wife in that way...I would kill him!“

Buffy stared at him in despair. If it wouldn’t have made such a mess of the little hairstyle she had left, she would have run her fingers through her hair in temper. Div’vid was such a sweet, lovable guy. And she was getting mega annoyed that she couldn’t tell either him or Spike exactly what sort of woman Arabella actually was. She was getting so fed up with having to worry about protecting the feelings of the males in this triangle. But Div’vid was so sweet; she could only imagine how hurt he would be to discover what a big ho his wife was. Spike and his cousin, Div’vid and his wife. And she was right in the middle!

“Hey, there’s obviously been some sort of misunderstanding. Why don’t we - perhaps we can all - ” she was floundering, wishing that Giles was here. He’d know exactly what to say. Then she remembered something her mother had said to her once when she was squabbling with Dawn - “Why don’t we all sit down together and talk it out. Then everyone can say what’s on their mind and clear the air.”

The big demon’s ferocious frown faded a little and he put his arms round Buffy and gave her a hug that almost broke her ribs in several places. “You are a good girl, Buffy. William is lucky to have you. Yes, you are right. We will all sit and talk. Arabella is so sensitive. She suffers badly with her nerves, you know. She’s very delicate, not strong as I feel you are. I call her my little flower, sometimes. Maybe she has read too much into a cousinly gesture. Maybe William was drunk - although that wouldn’t stop me from killing him, of course.“

Buffy sighed with relief. What she was keen to do was pick the ‘little flower’ and trample it into the mud. But OK, no trampling. There was no way Arabella could sit with Spike and her husband and continue with this pack of lies. Buffy knew she hated Spike’s cousin with every fibre of her being, but she also had a good idea that she wasn’t dim. Surely she would see she had to stop playing these silly games.

She stood on tip-toe in front of Div’vid as he sat on the fountain wall and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, “I’ll sort it out. It’s what I do.”

“There! William! Look! ” It was Arabella, standing behind them on the steps leading down from the terrace, pointing dramatically at Buffy. Spike was standing next to her, looking puzzled.

“I told you she wasn’t to be trusted. The little bitch is kissing my husband! I told you she wanted Div’vid, but you wouldn’t believe me. Well, perhaps you’ll believe what you can see with your own eyes. Kill her! Do it for me, William. She’s leading my Div’vid astray. Kill her!” She vamped out, her blue eyes glittering gold. “Kill her now!”

Buffy broke away from the friendly hug she was giving the big green demon as Arabella flashed into game face. Buffy stared at Spike and his cousin and as she looked, Spike’s face, too, changed and his demon self appeared.

“Yes, Div’vid, old mate,” he hissed as he stalked forward, his red shirt fluttering in the night breeze. “Never mind Buffy leading you astray, what are you doing kissing my girl? I knew I should never trust you around a pretty woman. Especially a pretty woman who belongs to me!”

Div’vid bellowed and lowered his emerald head, ready to charge. “It’s you who can’t be trusted! You’ve been pawing at my wife all night! Making advances, touching her, holding her – ”

“Kill Buffy, William!” Arabella snapped. “Kill both of them.”

Div’vid turned a startled face in his wife’s direction. “Bella, sweetheart, I promise I haven’t done anything.”

But the two vampires were still advancing towards each other, step by step.

“This is ridiculous! Stop it right now!“ Buffy finally lost her temper. “I came here as a favour to Spike. And I’m just tired of tip-toeing around, being careful not to upset all your little family apple-carts. I really have had enough of the whole jealous vampire scene.”

She snatched a stake out of her purse and stood between the three of them. “Nothing is going on with me and Div’vid, Spike. And if there was something, which there isn’t, then it’s nothing to do with you! We’re not - we’re not a couple. I certainly don’t belong to you. And Arabella, you should wash your mouth out with soap, not trusting your husband. He’s a really sweet guy. So just stop it, all three of you!”

Arabella gazed at the stake in horror and snapped back to human face. “Slayer!” she spat. “You’re the Slayer!”

Div’vid swept his wife protectively to one side with a huge green hand. “A Slayer in my house! William, you brought a Slayer here, on our anniversary? Are you mad? How dare you?”

But Spike wasn’t listening. He prowled forward, eyes glittering. “You’ve always been jealous of me. You wanted Drusilla once, didn’t you? I remember you trying to get her away from me. You kissed her. I saw you. Now you want Buffy! And I saw you kissing her. You can’t deny it.”

Div’vid circled round him. “Of course I deny it. Buffy kissed me! Okay, I admit I kissed Drusilla - once! That was before the puppies. We were all very drunk. It doesn’t count,” he roared.

“I’m bloody well sick of great, tall, hulking demons taking my women away from me! First Dru and her Chaos demon with his slime and his antlers, and now you with your cow’s ears and bad breath wanting Buffy. Well, it ends here!”

“Spike! Snap out of it. I am not your woman and will someone please tell me what the hell is the story behind the puppies,” Buffy pleaded, but no one was listening.

“Stop them,” Arabella said suddenly, clutching Buffy’s arm. “They’ll kill each other.”

Buffy shook her off and glared. “I thought you wanted Spike to get rid of your husband? Wasn’t that your plan?”

Arabella tossed her head and pouted like a spoilt child. “Oh, that! I thought he might kill you. That would be fun. I didn’t really think he’d try to kill Div. You must mean a lot more to him than you think. I just wanted Div’vid to pay me a bit of attention. It’s all business, business, business these days and that disgusting regurgitating every night has been driving me mad. But now - look - he’s changed colour. He’s going yellow! Once that happens, he’ll fight to the death, whoever it is.“

Buffy glared at her again as, with a roar, Div’vid swung at Spike who ducked under his arm, jeering. “You’re a vampire and he‘s your husband. You stop him! And quickly. We’re drawing a crowd.”

Even as she spoke, the doors to the ballroom opened and a gang of demons surged out, drawn by the shouting and the smell of a fight. Buffy backed up against the low marble wall of the fountain. She was aware that the atmosphere had changed. Spike and Div’vid were blissfully unaware, circling each other, trading blows and punches, and shouting insults that seemed to have swerved away from Arabella and Buffy and be mostly about Spike being a Red and supporting Manchester United. Div’vid being a Blue and supporting Manchester City and some soccer game years ago when there should or shouldn’t have been something called a penalty.

But the other demons were looking at Buffy, their eyes glowing red and they certainly didn’t seem friendly, fluffy folk any more. There was a low growling and grunting that could only spell trouble.

“William! Stop it at once!’” Arabella shouted as Spike’s fangs tore a strip off of one of Div’vid’s prettty cow ears. “Buffy - he’s your boyfriend - stop him hurting my husband.”

“For the hundredth time, he’s not my boyfriend!” Buffy yelled, jumping back as the flailing bodies surged towards her. “He’s an evil thing who just happens to be around when I need him - sometimes! I like him - a bit, I suppose - but that’s it!”

Arabella’s sapphire eyes narrowed. “You keep saying that. But you’re lying! It’s not what your bodies say when you’re together. It’s not what his mind says when you’re not nearby. All the time he’s thinking of you, feeling for you. And your eyes say the same thing. Oh, your mouth says no, but the feelings in your heart shine out of your eyes and they say yes. No wonder Drusilla left him. I didn’t understand before, but I do now.” 

Buffy winced as the fighting got louder and nastier. She didn’t want to think about what Arabella had said. She just wanted to get Spike away from Div’vid and his cousin. She wanted to get him home, somewhere quiet where she could think about things and hold him and -

Crash! The two bodies hurtled into a glass topped table sending it smashing into splinters. 

“Oh this is ridiculous,” Arabella stormed. “I’m going to have to ruin this dress and I only bought it yesterday. Men!!”

With a gesture that Buffy was forced to admire, Arabella shook her long brown curls loose from their ribbon, rushed forward with a swirl of blue velvet, threw up her hands, gave a theatrical little gasp and collapsed into a graceful faint between Spike and her husband.

Div’vid swayed in mid punch, then with a cry he bent over his wife, patting her hand and smoothing the hair back from her forehead. “Bella, Bella, my dearest girl! Oh dear, oh dear, help someone. Buffy, quickly, help me. Bella’s fainted.”

Spike’s face shimmered back to normal and he looked down in concern at his cousin lying at his feet. Buffy wondered if she could applaud. She might hate Arabella, but she had to admire her handling of this situation. Spike’s cousin reminded her of Cordelia - she’d been another girl who’d always known exactly how to handle men.

“Wish I could,” Buffy muttered. “If I’d fainted, they’d have just stepped over me to get on with their fight!” But she suddenly realised, that although Arabella - who was now being carried away in his arms by a concerned Div’vid - had stopped Spike and her husband fighting, the demons and vampires were still slowly surrounding Buffy.

“Spike!“ she snapped. “I think I’ve got a problem over here.”

“Bloody hell, Buffy. It’s a party. What on earth are you waving a stake around for?” He crossed the terrace in two swift strides and stood back to back with her, facing the oncoming demons.

“You were so the one vamping out and fighting Div’vid to the death just because you thought he was kissing me!“ Buffy hissed over her shoulder. “The tails and horns rent-a-mob only arrived when you two started.“

“To the death? Bloody rubbish, Slayer. It was only a scrap. We were enjoying ourselves.“

“Enjoying yourselves! You were killing each other. And that was all your cousin’s fault. Jeez, she’s a manipulative bitch. Sorry, I know she‘s family, but – jeez, she’s a manipulative bitch.“

“Bella? A bitch? Hey, you were the one kissing her husband, remember? Bloody hell, she’s even collapsed under the strain, poor love. Not everyone has your strength, Slayer. Mind you – “ he reached behind him with one hand and squeezed her waist. “Not complaining here! I like you just the way you are.“

Buffy shook him off. If he thought he could get round her by touching her - well, yes, he probably could get round her by touching her, but – “Remind me to tell you just how much I hate you, when - if! - we get out of here alive!“

Slowly they moved along the terrace towards the steps that led down into the garden. The mob of demons padded after them: the snarls were getting louder, there were a lot of red eyes glowing and Buffy caught a glitter of claws and scales appearing amongst the posh dresses and jewellery.

A thin black vampire at the front of the crowd hissed at Spike. “What are you doing, protecting her, Spike? She’s a Slayer! You fighting against your own kind now?“

Spike vamped out and Buffy heard a deep growl come from inside him. “She is my kind!“ he snapped. “She’s my woman. You want her, you take her over my dust.“

to be continued


	5. Just One More Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy and Spike do what comes naturally - and then they get into fight!

Chp 5: Just one more Time

 

Buffy hurled two small pink fluffy demons head first into the fountain and glanced round desperately to see where Spike was. The vampire was battling with fists, fangs and feet against two black slimy things that had suddenly grown tentacles from their heads. He was yelling and cursing with some blood-curdling words, but she had a nasty feeling he was actually enjoying the fight.

She backed away as another rat demon came growling towards her. "Spike! There’s too many of them,” she shouted. “I don’t want to kill anyone!” She bent down and ripped the skirt of her dress open so she could land a heavy kick to the purple faced rat’s nose. It broke with a satisfying squish and it howled away into a corner, trying to stem purple blood with its paws.

“Spike!” she yelled again. “I can’t fight them all without killing something.”

“So what’s your problem, pet?” he laughed, rolling across the marble terrace towards her feet, thrown by the whirling tentacles. “Nothing like a good kill to spice up a party!”

She hauled him to his feet and glared at him as she punched something in the mouth as it lunged towards her. “Eeeewww!!” It was all soft, soggy and smelly and now her hand was covered with stinking goo. “Spike! We can’t kill Div’vid’s friends.”

“Don’t see why not,” he said, kicking Mr Tentacles across the terrace to join the pink fluffies in the fountain. “Mind you, probably make a hell of a mess. Poor Bella won’t be in any mood to clear that up, I suppose.”

Buffy absentmindedly punched something else advancing on her and sighed. If Spike really thought his cousin had ever, EVER, done any cleaning in the whole of her life or death, he was even more deluded than normal. Arabella was definitely the sort of girl who thought her house washed and brushed itself every night.

“Right! If you’re feeling squeamish, we’d better split. Come on, Slayer.” He backed away towards the doors leading into the ballroom. 

“Where are we going?”

“Just be ready to run.” He grabbed her hand, whirled a chair over his head and threw it into the advancing crowd who promptly fell over it. As they tried to pick themselves up, he pulled Buffy into the ballroom and together they raced across the shining floor, out into the marble hall and up the stairs. The demons and vampires charged after them, but there was a major bottle neck at the first sweeping bend as tentacles, antlers and some very long tails got hopelessly muddled and entangled.

Spike strode down a corridor, up more steps, another corridor, then paused, and opened a little door that led onto a spiral staircase. He leapt up the steps, two at a time, Buffy at his heels. At the top, another door opened into a small, empty turret room. Once inside, he locked and bolted the door and stood, grinning at the very angry blonde at his side. “That was fun!”

“Fun? FUN?” Buffy could have hit him. “Look at my dress - it’s ruined! And it was my best one. I couldn’t hate you more if I tried. You asked me to do you a favor, come to this rotten party with you and okay, I have. And I’ve had to put up with your cousin being rude, her husband being charming but thick and now had to run away from a pack of demons just so I didn’t kill any and upset Arabella. This has been the worse night of my life!”

Spike gazed down at her. Her cheeks were rosy with anger and the soft swelling of her breasts made his pants feel tight. She was panting slightly, the blonde hair in tangles round her face. Her fists were clenched and glints flashed from her sea green eyes. The white and red dress had been torn up each seam to the waist and every time she moved, he could see a golden gleam from the round curve of her bottom. He didn’t need any reminding that he’d insisted she didn’t wear any panties under her dress. And she definitely hadn’t complained about his wishes. God, the fight had made him hot. He wanted her now. And by the look on her face, she felt the same.

"Spike....” she started to say, but in a blur of hands, the rest of her dress was ripped from her and she was being held up against the wall, reaching down for his zipper, just as she had that first fatal time in the ruined house.

And like then, this was quick and brutal. He plunged into the depths of her with one hard stroke. A grunt burst from her lips, her eyes went wide with shock and greed and then her legs lifted automatically to lock behind his waist. She was biting at his lips, drawing blood, her fists pummelling his back. This was all about fighting, blood lust, a male taking his willing female and making her his own.

When he forced his eyes open again, they were lying in a tangle of clothes on the dusty floor. Buffy was smiling at him, her face only an inch away from his. “Well, you did say in the car coming here that you would look forward to having your turn,” she murmured. “Hope it was worth waiting for.”

“God, Slayer. What have you done to me?” he moaned. 

“Me? And how was that my fault?” she teased. “That was a clear case of Spike wants, Spike gets.”

He rolled over with her in his arms until he was lying ontop of her. “And what does Buffy want?”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh William, don’t be so mean to little old me. I might faint.”

“Bitch!”

“Perhaps I should buy myself a nice blue velvet dress and wear white flowers in my hair.” She meant to sound flippant, but the words came out angry and upset.

“Now you’re being silly,” he said and bent his head to kiss her breast.

Buffy’s face went still for a second. “Spike...I was....I’m just...” She couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t say it to him. Because if she once put into words what she felt, there would be no going back and her life would change for ever. He was an evil, souless creature who happened to be part of her life, the only person who could make her feel anything in this cold, hard world.

And she’d convinced herself for weeks now that all she felt for him was lust. Not a very nice emotion, but, she’d told herself over and over again in the darkest hours of the night, an honest one. Lust wasn’t that bad. Lust was a physical thing. OK, she didn’t have a regular boyfriend, so the physical side was a bonus, but that’s all it was, all it could ever be. Just physical. But lying there, naked, with him stretched out over her body, she realised that she could no longer deny what seeing him with Arabella made her feel. She was jealous. Jealous that another woman - even if she was his cousin - could claim a place in his heart, in his affections.

Spike gazed down into her eyes. What he read there both scared and elated him. He’d once told her he knew she could never love him, but that she treated him like a man. But now he was beginning to realise that she could love him - but only if she would first admit it to herself. He dropped a chain of little butterfly kisses across her face; each eye, cheeks, forehead, mouth, words of endearment pouring out of him between each kiss. He could feel the incredible tension building in the warm firm body that lay under him. Such tension must be broken, or she would collapse under the strain. He marvelled that she could go through the days with this power inside her, untapped, untouched. How had Liam and soldier boy missed this?

OK, Riley he could accept. He’d never have had the imagination to stir these fires inside her. But Angel? Spike knew how good his grandsire was with women. He’d watched him often enough over the years. Had the virginal Buffy been such a tame event. Hadn’t he felt the power, the desire for release inside her? Or had he been relishing his the sensations in his own body too much to realise what was going on in hers.

Slowly, deliberately, Spike raked his fingers down the smooth curve of her stomach and smiled at the mewling sounds of anticipation that came from the back of her throat. This time wasn’t going to be just one good shag each and then off into the dark. This time, she was going to know what it was like to come and come, again and again, until the tension in her body had gone and, quivering and gasping, she sobbed both for him to stop and for him to do it to her, just one more time.

* * * * * * 

“I wonder if there’s any food left downstairs; I’m starving!”

Spike raised his head from where he was tracing delicate patterns with his tongue on Buffy’s flat tanned stomach. “Bloody hell, Slayer. A good hour‘s shagging and all you can think about is food. You don’t do much for a bloke’s ego, you know. Couldn’t you just sigh a couple of times and murmur, Oh Spike, that was fantastic!’’

Buffy pouted and curled her fingers in the platinum curls, trying to make them all turn the same way - which they refused to do. “Oh, Spike, that was fantastic, marvellous, the best ever and and please, please can you go and find me something to eat!”

Spike sighed, rolled over and pulled on his jeans. “OK, Slayer, I’ll see what I can do. But it depends on the demon activity, sweetheart.” 

Buffy pulled a face. "I forgot about the demons,” she admitted. “Do you think they know where we are?”

Spike grinned down at where she still lay on the floor, her blonde hair splayed out over the rich red carpet, her legs still apart from his last plundering, marauding advance. She was making no gestures of trying to cover herself up as she normally did. She was sated and satisfied, her lips swollen, her nipples bright red with kissing. He could see the sweat beading on her body. She’d never looked so relaxed or so gorgeous since he’d met her.

“I think they’d have been battering down the door if they’d sensed us,” he said. “This house has so many passages and staircases that they’ve lost our trail. But eventually one of them will track us down.“

Buffy sat up abruptly and looked round her. The white and red silk dress lay in ribbons around her. Her peach bra was the only item of clothing she could wear again because she’d never had any panties on from the moment earlier this evening that Spike had come into her bedroom. “You’d better find me something to wear,” she said dryly. “And you owe me for my best dress. Did you have to tear it to pieces?”

He smiled. “You weren’t complaining too much at the time, sweetheart,” he said. “I didn’t hear much ‘Oh Spike, mind my dress,’ but a lot of ‘Oh god, faster, more, harder, again, please, please, make me come again, oh god!’”

“Pig!” Buffy said automatically, standing up and stretching her arms above her head. Being naked seemed natural now in front of him. She used to be shy of him seeing her body, unless they were making love. But now, after the hour they’d just spent, she felt intensely feminine. For sixty wonderful minutes, she’d stopped being the Slayer, stopped having to think and decide and control. He’d taken her body and driven all the tension and unhappiness out of her.

Oh, she knew it would come back. Soon they would have to return to Sunnydale and all the problems that awaited them. But she would never forget that sixty minutes, when all her inhibitions had been driven away, even Spike and Buffy had vanished, it had just been a man and a woman, diving into the very depths of passion.

She watched now as his gaze roamed over her body, the breath he didn’t need hissing through his teeth. He crossed the room in two strides and crushed her against him, bending her head back to kiss her, his hands moulding her body as he did so. “Grrrr, Slayer, you drive me wild,” he muttered. “OK, OK, I know what you’re going to say. Food and clothes! Wait here and I’ll see what I can do. Have this in the meantime.” He threw her his red silk shirt and she pulled it on. Although it came down to her thighs, there was no way she was going to walk round Arabella’s house dressed just in this!

She could smell Spike on the shirt and it made her legs go weak. She sat on the floor, waiting for him to return, thinking about what they’d just done, feeling the colour flooding her cheeks at her memories. Where had her behaviour come from? It had been - she struggled to find the words she needed. Wanton. Abandoned. Out of control. All were true. She tried to remember her one time with Angel. OK, sixteen, a virgin, scared, unsure of what she was doing. There had been a certain amount of pain, a certain amount of pleasure, but she was pretty damn sure that her legs had never wrapped round his waist, that she hadn’t screamed with passion and desire.

Sex with Riley had been, well, sort of relaxing, she’d always known exactly what he was going to do and what order he was going to do it in. She’d never been surprised or alarmed by him. She’d even once had the wicked thought that there was an army manual somewhere with all the moves written down and Riley followed it to the letter.

Sex with Spike was - OK, mind-blowingly great, but more than that. She hated to admit it, in fact she refused to admit it! - but somehow, apart from their bodies which seemed to know each other instinctively, what they wanted, what they needed, they also committed to each other in a deep, overwhelming, emotional way she failed to understand. If it had been any other man, she would have said she was head over heels in love with him. But that was ridiculous. This was Spike - evil vampire, ex Big Bad, her arch-enemy, admittedly now helpless, but only held in place by that gizmo the government boys had placed in his brain. How could she possibly love him? No, she was just confused by the sex and his ability to get under her skin.

After all, how ridiculous to be jealous of his cousin Arabella. How could she possibly be jealous of someone who was way over a hundred years old. That, she told herself firmly, had just been that wretched pink champagne. Well, the effects of that were wearing off now. She was quite certain that the next time she met Arabella, she would feel nothing but mild irritation at the female vampire’s devious ways to get inside Spike’s pants!

Buffy sighed and stretched luxuriously. She would think about all this another day. Right now, she realised, she was facing other more pressing problems. High up on the stone wall was a little round window. Through it she could see that the dark midnight blue of the sky was beginning to pale. She frowned. If the sun came up, she and Spike would be stuck here and that would cause all sorts of problems at home.

“Hurry up,” she murmured, wishing she wasn’t so hungry. Slaying or making love, they both had the same effect on her stomach she’d noticed!

Suddenly the door banged open, Spike flew through it and slammed it shut behind him. From the other side, they could hear shouts and growls and then a thumping and scratching on the thick wood, as if claws and talons were being used to tear it apart.  
“Sorry, Slayer. Got caught half way downstairs. Thought they’d have given up by now but I was wrong!’

“And my snacks?” Buffy said hopefully. 

Spike glared at her. “Sod the snacks, Buffy. At least I got you something to wear.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a pair of pink see-through chiffon trousers. Buffy stared at Spike and then at them. The last time she’d seen these, they’d been on a little fluffy demon who was serving drinks.

“Don’t ask,” Spike said grimly and she pulled them on under the red shirt. At least they weren’t dripping with gungy demon blood, she thought, trying to look on the bright side.

The scratching and growling at the door was getting louder. “So, how do we get out of here?” she asked.

Spike shook his head and glanced round. “Perhaps we could open the door and rush them?”

Buffy picked up her purse and emptied it onto the floor. She still had her stake. She pushed it into her waistband and surveyed the room. “The window, Spike,” she said at last. “It’s our best chance.”

Swiftly, without any further words, he grasped her foot and heaved as she jumped. She sailed upwards and grabbed hold of the stone sill. For a long second she hung, her legs scrabbling against the stone, then she got a firmer grip and pulled herself up until she was sitting on the deep window sill. She glanced back down at Spike who was standing, hands on hips, staring up at her. 

“Great view, Goldilocks,” he grinned nodding at her transparent trousers.

“Give me strength!” she snapped. “Here we are, trying to escape from a pack of demons and all you can think of is – ”

“Hey, I’ve always been bad, Slayer. Your bum is such a perfect round shape,” he quipped. “Must admit I don’t often get to see it from this angle.”

Buffy turned away before he could see her smile. She grasped the frame of the window and pulled. She felt it give, then with a wrench of her Slayer strength, it came loose and she flung it down, giggling as Spike had to dodge as it crashed against his head.

“Sorry!” she called. “It’s the trousers - they’re spoiling my aim.”

“Just wait till we get out of here!”

Buffy stared outside of the window and gulped. She had a feeling they weren’t going anywhere. She reached down her arm and Spike leapt up, grasping her hand and allowing her to swing him up beside her.

He looked out of the window. “Bloody hell, Slayer. How high up are we?”

Their room was at the top of a turret built at the far end of Arabella and Div’vid’s mansion. Below them was a sheer wall that fell straight down into an oily black lake where, even in this half light she could see that wicked rock teeth pushed up above the surface 

Buffy stared. There was no way they were going to jump down there. She bit her lip. Every second the sky was growing paler; there was a distinct lavender glow in the east. The sun would be up soon and it was vital that Spike wasn’t outside when that happened. She glanced back down at the door. She could see that great splinters of wood were being gouged out now from outside. The noise of the hunting demons was growing louder by the second. So they couldn’t go back and they couldn’t go forwards. They were trapped!

“If you were a proper vampire like Dracula, we could fly out of here,” Buffy snapped, staring down at the sheer drop beneath them.

Spike edged out onto the sill and reached upwards to search for non-existant handholds on the stone wall above his head. “Flashy gypsy tricks, pet. I wouldn’t demean myself by using them.“

“Excuse me, Mr Perfect, but he’s not the one stuck at the top of a tower with a pack of demons about to break through the door!” Buffy said crossly.

“I think we can climb upwards and sort of inch round to the other side of the turret,” Spike said more in hope than certainty.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, we can give it a go, pet.”

Buffy suddenly jumped back down into the room.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m so coming to my senses, that’s what I’m doing. This is ridiculous. Jeez, I’m the Slayer. What am I doing, running away from a pack of drunk demons? I must be mad. If they want to fight, OK, I’ll fight. Come on, surely, you’re not shirking a good scrap. Where’s your sense of adventure, British boy.”

“Bloody Hell!” Spike muttered. “Women! Wish you’d make up your mind, pet.” He swung himself back through the window and hurtled down to land like a great cat on his feet at her side. “Just don’t kill too many, Slayer. Remember, they’re Arabella and Div’vid’s guests here tonight. I’m family, I can’t upset her by going round knocking off her friends just as I choose.”

“I don’t see why,” Buffy said indignantly. “You used to attack my friends all the time! Giles - Willow, remember. And hey, you’d bite Xander in a second if you had the chance.”

“Vampire here! It’s what I do. Or did. But this is different. You wouldn’t start killing Janice, the Bit’s friend, now would you?”

“Oh all right. I’ll be careful.” Buffy sighed. Honestly, was she getting tired of all the ‘mustn’t upset Arabella’ crap? Had she ever had a more annoying evening out? It was hard to remember one. Oh, yes, she’d died a couple of times. Perhaps they counted as big fat ten out of tens, but this was a close nine and a half. No, make that nine and three-quarters!

The roaring and yelling outside the door was growing louder every second and now the gouges in the wood were showing light on the other side. Any second now the door would be down. She glanced at Spike and he grinned back. Clad only in a lacy peach bra, a red silk shirt and pink transparent trousers, he couldn’t remember when she’d looked so god damn sexy. Her hair was a mass of golden tangles and her green eyes blazed at him. He felt his trousers tighten and knew with pounding certainty that on the day he was dying, he would react to her in the same way.

Whatever the cords were that bound them, they were becoming stronger and stronger with each passing day. He couldn’t believe that anything could ever part them now, even though he knew she still thought he was an evil, soul-less thing. He reached over and pulled her close, bending back her head so her hair cascaded down over his arm, and kissed her, slowly, seductively, achingly tender. But underneath, Buffy could feel the passion, the lust, the desire, the longing for a good fight, and all her Slayer blood responded to him.

She twined her fingers deep into his hair and returned the kiss with all her power. She heard him grunt as he dug his boots into the floor to keep his balance against her strength. This was what she gloried in where Spike was concerned. Every other man - except Angel - would have gone crashing to the floor, with her then apologetically having to help him up. And Angel - well, she’d never have acted so brazenly with him, never forced him to stand and fight her back with his kisses as Spike was now doing.

“Just you wait, Slayer!” he breathed at last as she broke away for air. “Wait until I get you away somewhere private.”

“More promises,” she murmured and then yelped as the door finally gave way and a crowd of demons broke into the room.

The next few minutes were a whirling kalaidoscope of punches and kicks, flying bodies, teeth and fangs, golden glowing eyes, claws and horns, fur and blood. At last Spike hurled himself down the staircase, taking five or six demons with him and Buffy skipped along behind, her fists connecting with scales and slime, but not using her stake. She wished for a split second that she wasn’t wearing the chiffon trousers, though, especially when the fluffy pink demon who owned them, came screaming in a high falsetto up the stairs, accusing her of being a thief!

Buffy knocked him out with one punch and then ran after Spike who was buried under various heaving bodies and obviously thoroughly enjoying himself from the shouts of laughter and cries of “Come on, is that all you’ve got!” she could hear.

By now the fight had reached the great marble hallway and the enormous crash as the central blue and white and silver flower decoration was hurtled to the floor made even Buffy wince. “Spike! Head for the car,” she yelled. “We must get out of here. It’ll be dawn soon.”

“Buffy - look out!” With a roar, Spike shook off two vampires who were trying to throttle him and threw himself across the hall as the black slime demon that had crept up behind Buffy was just about to smash in the back of her head with the stone bowl that was all that was left of the flower decoration.

It hit Spike on the temple and he dropped, senseless to the floor. Buffy yelled and stood over him, brandishing the stake she’d tucked into the drawstring of her transparent pants. “Touch him and you die!” she hissed, eyes blazing green. “Spike. Spike! ” She nudged at him with her foot but he lay motionless. “Get up! Please, get up.”

“He can’t hear you, Slayer,” the slime demon grunted and prowled forward dripping mucus from every pore. “He can’t defend you anymore and I’m having a really good day because you’re going to die!”

 

to be continued


	6. "I dare you!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arabella asks Buffy a very simple question and Spike doesn't want to hear the answer.

Buffy laughed at the slime demon and planted her feet more firmly on either side of Spike’s body as it sprawled on the black and white marble hall floor. “You know, I wish I had a dollar for every time a demon or vampire has said those words to me. I would be so rich, I could buy myself a beautiful tropical island and live there for ever!”

“Silly little girl - prepare to die!”

‘I - ” thwack! “am not” - slud! - “silly!’ Flumpf!! Two kicks and a back punch sent the demon flying across the hallway. Swiftly, she bent and hoisted Spike upright. He groaned and muttered something very rude under his breath as she half carried, half pushed him out towards the main doorway of Arabella’s house. “Come on, Spike, be a big brave vampire and walk on your own two feet, damn it.”

“Why? The view’s better from here,” Spike groaned thickly, his nose buried in the soft flesh showing above her bra.

Buffy dropped him and he rolled over and was up on his feet, groaning. “My head hurts! Who hit me?”

“Slime demon. With a flower vase. Just be grateful it wasn’t an axe. We need to get out of here - fast.“

“Spike! Miss Summers! What’s happened? Are you all right?” The vast, bright green bulk of Div‘vid, the Frovlax regurgitating demon appeared in front of them, his soulful brown cow gaze worried and upset. He turned to the demons who were still spoiling for a fight and waved them away with one gesture of his huge hand.

“OK, everyone, settle down. This party game’s over now. There’s a new supply of champagne being served downstairs and snacks of all sorts of sizes are being set loose at the moment in the basement. There’ll be some great hunting, so run along everyone and have fun. Off you go. No more fighting. It’s been fun, I’m sure, but enough is enough.”

The mutterings and growlings died down and with a final clicking of claws and hissing through whiskers, the angry crowd wandered off to hunt for their supper.

“Come in here,” Div’vid said, ushering them into what turned out to be his library. Spike collapsed into a large leather chair and groaned, holding his blond head in his hands.

“Div’vid, we need to go,” Buffy said urgently. “It’s nearly dawn. I must get Spike home before the sun gets up too high. We came in a convertible!”

The demon shook his head with its silly little cow ears. “Buffy, the sun’s up already,” he said anxiously. “You’ll have to stay here till the evening.” He bent to examine Spike. “This needs attention. I’ll deal with it.”

“I’ll have to ring home and let them know.”

“Yes, of course. Here’s the phone. When you’ve finished, I’ll arrange for one of the servants to get a room ready for you. I’m sure you’d be glad of a nap and a shower — ” he waved his paw at her transparent pink trousers - “you seem to have, er, mislaid your dress! I’ll get Arabella to find you something to wear. Then maybe some brunch? I’m sure my lady wife will be delighted if you join us later in the day.”

Arabella would probably be horrified to find they were still there, Buffy thought grimly and would have seen drinking holy water a better option than having to find Buffy some clothes. She phoned Willow but there was no reply. Buffy sighed and left a message on the answerphone. She knew Dawn was at Janice’s and would go straight to school from there. She could only hope that Willow would be home before her. And oh god, she would probably get the sack from the Doublemeat Palace for not turning up for work.

A timid little demon showed her the way up a private staircase to a guest room on the first floor. It was decorated in dark red, heavy velvet curtains hung at the windows and the huge bed looked incredibly inviting with its pure white sheets and red velvet covers and cushions. Buffy realised just how tired she was. She ached all over and knew she smelt of all the pongy demon blood that had spattered over her during the evening. She stripped off the remnants of her clothes and stood under the shower, luxuriating in the steaming hot water and frothy bubbles. It was marvellous to feel clean again, to rub shampoo through her hair and watch the goo and blood dissolve down the drain.

She expected Spike to appear at any moment and smiled to herself as she raised her face to the water, eyes shut, body pink with the heat. She could imagine what would happen if he walked into the bathroom now. She could picture him kicking off his boots; the speed in which his trousers and T-shirt would hit the floor. She ran her hands slowly across her nipples, down to the drenched curls between her thighs, imagining his fingers following the same path, teasing, stroking, playing, demanding. God, she wanted him inside her so badly. They’d never showered together. This was an ideal chance, and where was he? She came down to earth with a bump. Huh! He was probably off somewhere letting Arabella play nursie to his bad head! 

Buffy shut off the water with an angry snap, wrapped herself in a huge scarlet towel and was drying her hair when she heard the bedroom door slam shut. “Oh great, you’ve decided you’re well enough to put in an appearance,” she said from beneath the towel. “I hope you realise your rotten party means I’ve probably lost my job.”

“Oh dear, is the little Slayer a teensy bit upset?”

Buffy spun round. Arabella stood in the middle of the bedroom, holding an armful of clothes which she threw disdainfully onto the bed. She’d changed out of her blue evening dress and was wearing golden silk trousers that made her waist look tiny, high heeled gold sandals and a creamy wrap top that did nothing to hide her beautiful breasts. The dark brown ringlets had been caught up to one side of her head with a golden clasp and the sapphire blue eyes, so like her cousin’s, glared out at Buffy from the flawless face. She looked elegant and rich and powerful.

Buffy sighed and hitched the scarlet towel tighter round her bust. Why did this woman always catch her at a disadvantage? And where the hell was Spike?

“These are some old things,” Arabella was saying. “They were going to charity, but Div’vid said you needed something to wear, so - well, here you are. I don’t know if anything will fit - ” She raised an eyebrow in an alarmingly accurate copy of her cousin. “You are a little thin and small for high fashion, aren’t you? But then, not many Americans know how to wear good clothes, do they?”

Buffy was determined not to let her see how much she irritated her. She turned over the pile of clothes and found a plain lavender dress with a tie belt that she was sure she’d seen one of the waitresses wearing earlier in the evening. Yup, well that made more sense. If Div’vid really believed his wife was going to lend Buffy anything that belonged to her, he was even more naive a demon than she believed already.

Arabella had obviously not thought to bring any lingerie so Buffy dropped the towel and slid the dress over her head, tying the belt as tightly as she could. She knew she looked frumpy, but she didn’t care. She just wanted the vampire to go away so she could get some sleep.

Arabella was wandering round the room, pushing a picture straight on the wall, plumping a cushion, running her finger along ledges looking for dust. “He’ll never be yours, you know,” she said in an off hand fashion.

“Who’ll never be what?” Buffy replied puzzled.

Arabella sighed. “Don’t be obtuse, dear. William will never love you. Not completely. Part of him will always belong to me.”

Buffy sat on the high bed and pulled her legs up under her. “Arabella, I know you’ll find this very difficult to understand, so I’ll use five very simple words. Spike – is – not – my - boyfriend! He’s an evil vampire who has a government chip placed inside his brain making him harmless. I have absolutely no desire for him to belong to me.”

As she spoke, she realised her fingers were buried deep in the dark velvet cover on the bed and, for some strange reason, she’d crossed them, like she used to do when she was a little girl. I’m telling a lie, Mom, but I’ve got my fingers crossed behind my back so it doesn’t count.

Arabella spun on her high heels and stalked over to the bed. ”That prim little act won’t work with me, Buffy Summers,” she spat. “William might be taken in by it, but I’m not. I can sense the hunger you have for him when you’re together.” She laughed harshly. “Even now I can tell, one part of you is listening for his step, waiting to hear his voice, alert for his touch. But although he might take what you offer so readily, because I’ll admit he’s a man who’s always enjoyed sex, he’ll never be yours. Deep down in his heart, he’ll always be mine.”

Buffy shrugged. “In that case, why are you so worried about us being together?” she said casually. “If you’re so sure William loves you and only you, then I’m no threat.”

Arabella’s eyes glittered and her mouth tightened. “All right, then, tell me yourself,” she said. “Say out loud that William means nothing to you - if you can. That this - this - freak show you share, is just that. Just physical. Just sex. Lust. Nothing else. No emotions, no feelings, no love.”

Buffy turned away from her, but the vampire caught her arm. “Tell me!”

Buffy shook herself free. “This whole conversation is absurd. Go away, Arabella. Go back to your husband. He’s a nice guy who loves you. God knows what you feel for him, but be glad you’ve got him.”

Arabella laughed shrilly. “You can’t say it, can you? You’re scared. The great Slayer, the great Buffy Summers, is scared of a few little words. I dare you, Slayer! I dare you to look me in the eyes and say, ‘I love William'!”

Spike strode up the corridor, gingerly dabbing at the gash on his head with a towel. Div’vid had doctored him up some and he’d soon mend, but in the meantime he had a thumping headache which wasn’t doing a lot for his temper. He could sense that the sun was up outside his cousin’s house. He yawned widely. God he was bloody tired. It had been a fun evening, a great party what with the fighting and all, but now he wanted was to get his head down - preferably with the Slayer tucked up beside him. He grinned wickedly. He was sure his headache would vanish once he could press his forehead against her soft breasts. The bedroom they’d been given was at the end of the corridor. He hoped it was soundproof. He intended to make Buffy scream in all sorts of ways once they’d had a short kip and got their strength back. They had all day now till dusk. Hours and hours on their own with no interruptions.

He growled in anticipation. Hours in which he could begin to teach her just a few of the things he’d learnt in over a hundred years of unlife. Oh, and she’d be such a willing little pupil. That he knew. She’d only just begun to scrape the surface of her sexuality. 

Spike fought to keep his demon from appearing. Bloody hell, he could feel every nerve in his body tingle as he imagined what he was going to do to her, what she would do to him. He knew he’d never tire of hearing that weird moaning groan she made when she was close to coming. He knew she thought it was an ugly sound, but it drove him wild. So did the way she bit and scratched him, forcing him deeper and deeper inside her. And he’d kill the first person who tried to come into their room while he was -

The door was ajar as he reached it - he hesitated - he could hear Arabella’s voice. It was strangely comforting to hear a female English accent again. It brought back memories of his mother - but they made his head throb harder so he pushed them aside.

“You can’t say it, can you? You’re scared. The great Slayer, the great Buffy Summers, is scared of a few little words. I dare you, Slayer! I dare you to look me in the eyes and say, ‘I love William'!”

Spike froze, one hand outstretched to the door handle. He felt a cold shudder run across his body. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel any colder than usual, but he did. Arabella was daring Buffy to say she loved him. He’d imagined they’d be talking girly sort of things about the party. How the hell had the conversation got round to this?

For a split second, Spike wanted with all his dead heart to wait, wanted to listen to her answer, to know once and for all how she really felt about him. But in the next instant he knew he couldn’t let her be forced into this. Okay, Arabella was making mischief, but she had no idea of what Buffy had been through recently. Spike knew that coming back from the dead had altered so much in the Slayer’s world. 

Whatever she said now, it was under pressure and that wasn’t any good for them at all. He thought she loved him but saying it would take their relationship to another level and he knew she wasn’t ready for that - yet.

There was still a huge part of Buffy that wanted to be a normal girl. Until she realised once and for all that she never would be, he knew she would never be happy to admit her feelings for him. And, above all, as much as he loved her, he wanted her to be happy....

Buffy stared at Spike’s cousin. It was a long time since she’d seen such hatred in a woman’s face. Arabella hadn’t vamped out, but the sapphire eyes that were so like her cousin’s were burning with loathing. And she’d dared Buffy to say what she really felt for Spike, to admit that she loved him.

Buffy glanced in the mirror behind Arabella. There was no sign of the vampire woman in it, of course, just herself; a small, barefoot girl with damp blonde hair, wearing a dreadful lavender dress that had seen better days. She didn’t look powerful, didn’t appear to be the Slayer, the scourge of the vampire world. But she was. And she’d never backed down from a dare in all her life. Did she love William? She flung her head back - she refused to lie to this...this thing. She’d tell her the truth -

“Bloody hell, Bella. Couldn’t you find Buffy something better to wear.” Spike breezed through the door, dabbing at the cut on his head with a cloth. “She looks like a waitress.”

Arabella spun round, the venom vanishing from her face, replaced by a warm smile. ‘William! Are you all right? Has Div’vid dealt with your wounds?” Her nostrils flared slightly. “You’re still bleeding.”

Spike grinned. “Bella, my sweet, you know family don’t snack on each other. Be a good girl and run along now. I need to get my head down and get some kip. And Buffy looks as if she’s about to fall asleep where she stands.”

Arabella cupped his face in her hands. “I know. I was just saying that to her when you came in.” She whispered, very loudly, “I don’t think she’s very strong, you know, cousin. A sweet child, but not Drusilla, of course.”

“Bloody hell, I hope not. I’d never dare shut my eyes again if she was. Go and get some rest yourself. It’s been a great party, but poor old Div’vid is still sorting out the mess your guests made in the hall. We’ll see you before we leave.” He ushered her out of the room and closed the door, locking it and tossing the key onto a shelf. “Trouble with the women in my family, they all talk too much, pet,” he said. 

Buffy sank down on the bed. She couldn’t remember when she’d last felt so tired. Emotionally she felt drained. She knew why. Arabella had almost made her admit to something she’d always refused to put into words, even in her own head. The adrenalin was draining out of her system now and all she wanted to do was sleep. “Is your head all right?” she murmured.

Spike grinned and pulled off his T-shirt. “Sorry to tell you, but I’ll survive to annoy you for another day, Slayer,” he said as his trousers and boots were kicked across the floor.

"Listen, Spike, I’m sorry, I don’t feel like - ”

“Slayer, get rid of that hideous dress. God only knows what Bella was thinking of, giving it to you. I suppose it might be fashionable in Europe. That’s probably why. But it doesn’t suit you, pet. Take it off.”

Buffy hesitated. She knew what he wanted and part of her wanted it too, longed for him to pound the doubts out of her, to make her moan and shout and scream and fall down that long, whirling scarlet place that he took her to when he made her come.

Spike threw back the sheets and flung himself, stark naked onto the bed. He held out an imperious hand and, almost without thinking, she threw off the dress and let him pull her into his arms. Then he turned her so her back was against his chest. Oh help, surely he wasn’t going to - then a leg draped over hers, his face buried itself in the soft skin of her neck and she heard a mumbled, “’Day, pet,” and a very definite snore!

to be continued


	7. Learning Curve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy discovers there's a lot more to making love than she knew before and Spike despairs of the women in his unlife.

 

 

Chp 7 Learning Curve

 

Buffy was dreaming: she was walking along a beach somewhere very warm. It was evening, the sun was setting in soft slashes of apricot and peach. The sand was soft and cool under her hot feet. She reached a little hollow under some palm trees and lay down to watch the waves curling idly against the sand. A little breeze blew against her skin and she pulled off her top, freeing her breasts to the air. She was so comfortable; she wriggled down into the sand, warm and cosy. She stretched, her legs spreading slightly as the muscles tensed and she could feel the sweaty dampness between her thighs and, as she coiled upwards out of her dream, she realised someone was rubbing the lips of her sex very gently, tangling in the damp curls. She whimpered in delight at the feeling that surged through her and as her sleep faded, she began to open her eyes.

“No, pet,” a voice purred in her ear and something very soft and dark descended on her eyes and was tied swiftly behind her head.

“What? - Spike - ”

“No talking, no looking, just let yourself feel, pet. Believe me, you’ll enjoy it. Trust me.”

Trust him? This was Spike. Trust? She lay shivering in anticipation, realising now that the breeze of her dreams had been Spike blowing softly on her breasts. She reached up to touch one and found her hand being caught and held.

"Naughty, naughty. Let Spike do that for you, sweetheart. Now, what did you want to do. Oh, aches does it? Is that why you’re moaning?” A finger began to circle.

“Spiiiiike...”

“No talking. Didn’t I tell you. Next time you get punished. Want to know what the punishment will be?”

She trembled, then squealed as he turned her over fast and slapped her bottom once, very hard, then turned her back. “Bastard!” Oh, god, it was so dark and every part of her nervous system was now screaming and pleading for some sort of release. She bit down on the pillow, clenching her hands in the sheets, feeling all her inhibitions vanishing as she lifted her hips and invited him in.

And as he thrust home, gasping her name and his love as he began to pound her down into the mattress, she wondered for a split second where this Buffy had come from. Was this really her? Then the explosion of their joint climax hit them together and the world went away somewhere, she didn’t know or care where. But as the centuries of swirling colour began to fade, somewhere in her brain, there was a tiny voice saying, ‘Is this what normal girls do?’

When she woke again, the could tell it was nearly evening. The heavy drapes showed very little light round their edges. She sat up in bed. Spike was sprawled out like a starfish, managing to take up most of the bed. Buffy hugged her knees to her chin and sat looking at the sleeping vampire, the muscles of his back, the riot of blonde curls, still damp with sweat. Had it all been a dream? Then she spotted the black velvet scarf lying on the floor next to the bed. So no dream.

Oh god. No dream. The spanking, how many times? It had become a game. She’d kept saying his name, knowing that one spank would follow, then he’d make love to her until she begged him to stop. And all the time she’d been blindfolded, every other sense highlighted by the loss of her sight And she’d let him - do - things - to her. And she’d enjoyed it. How could she? OK, sleeping with Spike. Not a good idea, ever, but she did it. She needed to feel something, anything, these days and he was...he was able to make that happen.

But this morning had been more than having sex, more than getting rid of the tensions of everyday existence, getting some color into her drab life. It had been - she searched for a word, wishing she had Giles’ vocabulary - oh heavens, what would he have thought if he’d seen - no don’t go there. Slam door! Decadent, that was the word. She’d been acting like some -

“Slayer?” A drowsy blond head lifted and Spike was smiling up at her. 

She smiled back nervously, wondering what he would say. Would he mention what they’d done? Was there some way of knowing if you’d reacted correctly? Been good at it?

He yawned widely and she tensed. “Bloody hell, I’m hungry. Do you reckon Bella’s got any blood around?”

“Yuck, Spike. So romantic! You really know how to make a girl feel special after you’ve - ”

“Well, it’s your fault. You certainly know how to ring all my bells. Look at these scratch marks. You know, I don’t think Slayers should have fingernails. It’s an unfair advantage. I think I should have made it two spanks for each word you spoke.” He grinned at her. “Fun, though, wasn’t it?” He wriggled closer, his voice a low purr. “You came so hard that last time, I thought you were going to explode. If I’d known playing games made you so hot, I’d have suggested some ages ago.”

“Fun? Sex shouldn’t be fun. Was I hot - we shouldn’t - did I -?”

He raised an eyebrow. He knew that look, that tone of voice. Bloody hell, why was he always coming up against this wall of insecurity in her where sex was concerned? Had none of the wankers she’d slept with before given her any encouragement, told her how fucking marvellous she was at it?

OK, Liam had turned into Angelus on the same night, so perhaps he hadn’t had time then. But he could have told her afterwards. He couldn’t have forgotten. Not Mr Broody. He was Irish - he remembered things that had happened centuries ago! Although probably he and Buffy hadn’t done anything too exciting. But the others - Parker, Riley. Spike made a very large mental note to track them down and kill them, painfully, when he got back to Sunnydale.

“Of course sex can be fun, pet. And passionate and exciting or boring and mundane and anything you want it to be inbetween. There’s no rules, pet. That’s half the fun. As long as you both agree and take precautions – which in our case we don’t have to - and like what you’re doing and what your partner is doing to you. If not, then you yell and get the hell out.”

“And are there - other games?”

Spike looked at her with an odd expression. She could almost have called it tender. “Oh pet. You’d better believe it. Now, not wanting to change the subject, because having sex with you is the most interesting thing in the world, but are you saying you’re not hungry? Those noises I can hear coming from your stomach are all in my imagination?”

Buffy winced. He was right. Her stomach was gurgling. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d eaten. Only the pink champagne they’d drunk. Which was probably why she’d let him - right! She’d been tipsy. She immediately felt better. She’d heard what Spike said, but she didn’t think she believed him. She could accept being drunk - she knew what effect alcohol had on her, but she couldn’t accept that she’d enjoyed what they’d done during the last few hours. Normal girls wouldn’t act like that.

“I’m going to find us something to eat,” the vampire announced, prowling round the room, discovering where he’d thrown his pants, hopping on one leg as he pulled on his boots.

“Then we have to go home,” Buffy said. “I can’t leave Dawn for another night.”

Spike’s face appeared as he pulled his T-shirt over his head. “Red’s there, isn’t she? We can stay another night, if you like. Give you a chance to get to know Bella better. ”

Buffy bit back the automatic reply that she’d prefer to get to know small-pox better than Bella. The beautiful vampire was his cousin, after all. You didn’t get to choose your family, only your friends. And Spike’s radar where Arabella was concerned was so off the map, it was in space. She was a manipulative bitch, a murderous, lying, evil -

“ - she’s had such a hard life. At least she’s got Div’vid. You like him, don’t you, even if he is a regurgitating demon? I know they’re not everyone’s cup of tea.”

Buffy was still getting her mind round ‘a hard life’. Oh, yes, a billionaire’s mansion, servants, diamonds, emeralds, cars, jets, horses, probably other homes round the world. Oh,yes it was a hard life. She wondered how Arabella would manage working double shifts in the burger bar. The grease, the rude customers, the stink of meat, the aching legs and feet. Arabella wouldn’t look so great then, would she! Then her lips twitched as her honesty prevailed. Knowing Arabella, she would bat those huge sapphire eyes at the nearest male, complain of feeling tired, curl up in a chair and drink coffee while everyone else ran around helping her.

“Yes, I like Div’vid. He’s great. But I still need to get home, Spike.”

“Okay, Okay, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Oh, sorry, you’re not wearing any, are you? Or anything else, come to that. Do you intend to drive home completely stark naked, Slayer. Not that I mind, but your neighbours might be a bit surprised when you get out of the car.”

Buffy stared at the strips of mauve polyester that were all that remained of the hideous dress Arabella had found for her hours before. She didn’t even remember Spike tearing it off her. “Perhaps your cousin could - ” she began and Spike interrupted, half out of the door.

“Don’t worry; I’ll sort it out. Back soon, pet. Bloody hell, I’m shattered. You kill me, Slayer.”

Buffy sat and stared at the closing door. She shivered, although the room was quite warm. She wondered what her life would have been like if she had killed Spike, back in those early days when he was just the latest Big Bad in town. 

It would have been so simple then. A quick stake one dark night, a puff of dust and no more William the Bloody. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. How stupid was that! Why on earth should the thought of killing a vampire upset her? Okay, she hadn’t killed him - and she’d never been able to give herself a good reason why not - and now he was harmless to humans. 

She leapt off the bed and hurried into the shower. Harmless? No, that was a long way from the truth. The damage he did to her heart was growing week by week.

Wrapped in a towel, Buffy padded back into the bedroom and stopped dead. Once more Arabella was waiting for her. She’d changed again - jeez, how many outfits did this woman get through in one day? - now she was all in black, tight jeans that showed every extravagant curve and a low cut black T-shirt that revealed a bust that immediately made the Slayer feel inadequate in that department.

Buffy stiffened and stood still. It wasn’t just the clothes that had changed. The supercilious expression, the disdainful pout had both gone. She expression on the vampire’s face was very familiar - cold, chilling blue eyes, mouth a thin straight line - the last time Buffy had seen that expression was watching Spike stalk a demon round the cemetery at home.

Arabella was hunting. And Buffy had a nasty feeling that she was the prey! Every hair on her body was twitching and screaming Danger! Vampire! “Can I help you?” she said as sweetly and insincerely as if she was Anya serving a customer in the Magic Box. 

Arabella tossed back her brown curls and snarled. “Oh, look, the little Slayer’s just come straight from the shower. Washing off my cousin’s scent? That’s impossible. Don’t you realise I can still smell him all over you?”

Buffy pulled a face. “Ewww and double eewwww. And here I was thinking this lovely lavender bath oil was what you were scenting.”

“The whole room smells of sex, Slayer. I know exactly what the two of you have been doing all day long. Why try and deny it?”

Buffy eased round the circling vampire, wondering why the show down had to come when she was only wearing a towel. Even a pair of shoes would have been good, or panties. It was odd how vulnerable a fluffy towel made you feel when it was your only covering.

“You sound just a teensy-weensy bit jealous, Arabella. Don’t you and Div’vid make love any more? Oh no, I forgot. You can’t stand the smell of your demon husband, can you? What a shame.”

Arabella hissed between her teeth and the blue eyes glittered dangerously. “Don’t concern yourself with my sex life, Slayer. I’ll be fine. Once you’re out of the way, William will have no need to stay in this stupid country. Div’vid has just told me that we’re moving abroad. I imagine it will be Paris or Milan. It won’t be difficult to persuade William to come with us. And once he starts living with me and Div’vid, well, I’m sure I don’t need to paint you a picture.”

Buffy glanced swiftly round the room. She needed a weapon, anything would do. “Oh, so you’re going to cheat on your husband under his own roof, are you?”

“Cheat? With the man I’ve loved all my life? The man I’ve waited for for over a hundred years. How can that be cheating?”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Arabella, I am not going to give you a lecture on how to behave - as much as you obviously need one. I’d just like you to get out of this room. We’re going home soon so we’ll be out of your hair and you can go on waiting for your William for another hundred years.”

The vampire growled deep in her throat and her beautiful face changed to release the demon that lived inside her. Even then, as Buffy backed away, she realised Arabella was actually still quite pretty - for a vamp. Really, life wasn’t fair.

“The only place you are going tonight is the grave,” Arabella snapped and lashed out with a fist, catching Buffy on the shoulder. She rolled across the floor with the punch and came to her feet, losing the towel as she did so. The pins holding her hair up fell out and it cascaded down onto her shoulders. Her slim body gleamed with the bath oil she’d used so lavishly.

Suddenly it didn’t matter that she was stark naked. She was the Slayer; this was what she lived to do and this was the fight she’d been waiting for ever since she first met Spike’s cousin. A primitive feeling of Slayer rage began to build inside her and her vision tunnelled down to the woman in front of her. This vampire had to be dusted - now! She darted forward, grabbed hold of Arabella’s arm, smacked her on the jaw and threw her across the room. The woman crashed onto the bed and fell off the other side, but she was up on her feet in an instant, golden eyes gleaming.

“Do you really think those limited - assets - will hold my William in thrall for long?” she hissed, waving her hand at Buffy’s naked form.

Buffy stalked after her, she had to keep away from those fangs. What had Spike once told her, ‘you have to reach for your weapons, we already have ours.’ And at the moment, she didn’t have any weapon at all. “He can’t get enough of me at the moment,” she smirked back at Arabella. “Perhaps it’s not what you’ve got but what you do with it that counts. Ever thought of that, bitch?”

Arabella launched herself across the bed again, caught Buffy’s arm and pulled her towards her. But the oil on her skin made her too slippery to hold and they wrestled each other on top of the red velvet coverlet on the bed, each one trying desperately for a killing blow.

Spike sauntered slowly up the corridor, carrying a tray and feeling lazy and satisfied. He’d found a supply of really good pig blood in the kitchen and he’d sorted out coffee and toast for Buffy. He’d also discovered a pile of clothes waiting to be ironed in one of the utility rooms and dug out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt he thought would fit the Slayer. It had been such a good night - well, day. He could feel his trousers growing tight against his groin as he remembered what they’d done. God, that woman would kill him. She was insatiable and so keen to learn. He’d never known anyone to have such blinding orgasms, either.

To be fair, the number of women he’d actually slept with over all these years was - although he’d never admit it to a living or dead soul - very few. William had died a virgin and then there’d been Dru, where he’d got most of his experience and when she came it was more a sort of shaking all over. She didn’t scream, not like the Slayer. Oh, then there’d been a couple of times with Darla when she was in the mood for a change from Peaches - that had been scary, he’d always counted all his bits afterwards in case something had gone missing - one or two girls when he’d had a row with Dru - fairly boring, and Harmony, of course and that was -

Even when he’d been William the Bloody out hunting, he’d been keener on the fighting, killing and feeding part. Liam had gone in for the rape and sex bit. So this experience with Buffy - god, it made him so randy it wasn’t true. He couldn’t wait to start again. She wanted to learn more games and oh bloody hell was he going to teach her. For starters, what to do with that hot wet little mouth of hers. She was a bit tardy in putting that to good use. Why should he do all the work?

“Slayer - I’ve got your breakfast. A little gratitude will be welcome. I do hope you haven’t bothered getting nice and clean because you’re going to get - Bloody Hell!“ He pushed open the door with his foot and stood there, mouth open. He was watching a vampire’s wet dream. Two women were wrestling on his bed. One stark naked, her golden skin shining with oil, had just torn off her opponents top.   
Then his brain jolted into gear. Arabella and Buffy! He dropped the tray with a crash and had only taken a step forward when Buffy twisted once more, reached up to the heavy wooden headboard and snapped off one of the slats that ran crisscross in a pattern.

The strength in those deceptively slim legs turned Arabella over and her gleaming arm swept back and - 

“Buffy!” His voice was shockingly hoarse. his hands stretched out towards her. 

Lost in a Slayer rage, Buffy swung her stake back and glared down at her victim pinned beneath her naked knees. Golden vampire eyes glared back. There was no fear in Arabella’s face, just hatred.  
Jeez, it was going to feel so good to stake her, get the ho out of her life for ever. Get her away from Spike. How dare she suggest he would be her lover. Spike belonged to her...to her..! Her arm began to plunge down when the only voice in the world that could have penetrated the red mist that surrounded her echoed in her ears.

“Buffy!”

Somehow she managed to pause. She and Arabella both turned their heads towards the door. Spike was standing there. He looked - well, scared, she supposed was the only word she could think of to describe the expression on his face.

“Please, Buffy. She’s my cousin. Family.”

“She’s a vampire. She’s a bitch. She’s dust.”

“Don’t kill her. For my sake. Please!”

Buffy hesitated, looked into the depth of those dark blue eyes and her arm dropped slightly. Then,

“Stay out of this, William. I can fight my own battles.”

Buffy jolted back to reality. “Yes, stay out of this, Spike. It’s between Arabella and me.”

“Bloody Hell. Women!” Spike stepped back as two identical glares came his way. Then, with vampire speed, Arabella flipped Buffy aside and bounded for the door. Buffy squealed in anger and hurled the stake after her. It bounced off the closing door and clattered to the floor. The silence that followed in the darkened room was deafening.

 

Tbc


	8. "I can give him Hope!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buffy realises her feelings for Spike are not just based on lust, Arabella reverts to type and the party ends with a bang!

Chapter: “I can give him Hope”

 

Spike stepped over the broken remains of Buffy’s breakfast and stood surveying the naked Slayer, still crouched on the bed, “What the hell’s going on?” he said, his bewilderment showing in his face. “Why on earth were you fighting with Arabella?”

Buffy swirled a sheet round her body and glared. “Your cousin tried to add Slayer to her kill list.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be her first,” Spike snapped unhappily. 

“What!”

“I - er - sort of forgot to tell you yesterday. Arabella killed a Slayer in France a few years back. Just before the 1st World War, I think it was. There’ll be a record of it in one of the Watcher diaries. I expect Giles would know.”

Buffy shut her eyes and counted slowly to ten as her mother had taught her to do before losing her temper. “Spike, you brought me here to meet a vampire who’s killed a Slayer?”

The sapphire gaze gleamed in the light from the bedside lamps. “Hey, killed a couple myself, pet. You know that.”

“That - that’s different.”

“How?”

Buffy stared at him in despair. Of course it was different. He was chipped, couldn’t hurt humans any more. Besides, he was her lover - no, take that back, he was the man she had sex with. And she - the words fell into her brain like ice splinters - she trusted him. She trusted him with Dawn, with her friends, she’d even trusted him to guard her mother all those years ago. She didn’t trust him not to break her heart, but that was her problem, not one she could share with him. But at least she owed him this much. “I trust you,” she whispered. “I know you would never physically hurt me. But Arabella would. That’s the difference.”

Silently Spike handed her the shorts and T-shirt he’d stolen from a laundry basket somewhere in the mansion. Buffy squeezed into them, wondering wryly if all men, dead or alive, liked their women in skin-tight micro shorts and Ts that were so thin, every time she moved, her nipples showed.

Spike leant against the dressing-table, hands stuck in his pockets and watched as she swept her hair off her face and tied it back with a strip of the mauve material from the dress he’d torn off her the night before. She looked up as she did so and felt herself blushing as she remembered exactly what they’d been doing all that hot long day behind the heavy curtains that shut out the killer sun.

“I need to go home,” she said. “It’s dark enough for you to travel, isn’t it?”

Spike nodded, then stood, silently studying his boots. “What about Arabella?” he said at last. “I’ve got to say something to her before we go. Bloody hell, she’s family. And to Div’vid. He’s a mate.”

“Just don’t let her near me,” Buffy replied shortly. “I stopped myself killing her once, I don’t think I can promise not to do it if she attacks me again.”

“Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding,” Spike proffered hopefully. “Something you said that she took the wrong way. She is English, you know, even if she is nearly as old as me. We do have trouble understanding you Yanks, sometimes. I mean, I still don’t see how the bonnet of the soddin‘ car can be called a hood? And how come you put things in the trunk and not in the boot?”

Buffy turned away wearily. All the Slayer adrenalin was flooding out of her blood stream now and she just felt tired. She realised she would never win against the Arabellas of this world. Vampire or human, the woman had that knack of handling men that you were born with, you could never learn it, no matter how hard you tried. “Spike, she was trying to kill me.”

He reached out and pulled her unyielding body into his arms. “No she wasn’t, pet,” he said cheerfully with the sort of male belief in the truth of what he was saying that made Buffy want to hit him where it hurt. “It was just a fight. God, sweetheart, I used to have real knock down scraps with Peaches all the time. It’s what vampire families do.”

He bent his head to nuzzle at the tender skin under her ear, running his hands over the shape of her body, outlined by the tight white shorts and skimpy red top. Buffy tried to wriggle free from his grasp as his clever fingers slid up under her top and found her breasts. “But I’m not a vampire,” she gasped. “I’m not part of your family.”

She needed to go home, they had to leave - now - except that, she found her breath coming in little gasps as the tender flesh was stroked with feather light touches. No, she mustn’t give in, but oh, god, that felt so good.

“We are family!” Spike hissed fiercely and plundered her mouth with his own. “I’d kill anyone who took you away from me!”

She realised her hands were tangled in his hair and somehow she had automatically raised one of her legs to rest on the vampire’s hip, fighting against the shorts that were restricting her movements. Buffy reached down and uzipped them, mewing slightly as he tugged them of her bottom and growled deep in his chest as his hands cupped her cheeks. She kicked them off and moaned in ecstasy at the relief of being naked to his touch once more.  
She needed the feel of his flesh on hers. She didn’t understand why, but she craved the sensation. The chill smoothness of his body made her burn and she couldn’t get enough of the sensation.

There was no time to reach the bed - Oh god, he was driving her insane, taking her right to the very edge and then drawing back 

“Love you, love you, love you,” he was muttering wildly as his hips jerked forward and she tightened every internal muscle she had. The bright blue eyes opened wide in glazed glee as his orgasm shook him. 

For a long minute they stood, gazing at each other. Buffy could hear her breath coming in little gasps. She was trying to forget Spike’s words. He often said he loved her. But he was a vampire; what did he know of true love? This was sex. And, oh god, she wanted him again. Her head began to swim and her eyes widened in something close to despair as the knowledge shook her. She saw the hunger echoed in Spike’s eyes and realised, at long last, that this was something deeper than sex. What was it Spike had said only a little while ago? Sex could be fun, and passionate and exciting or boring and mundane and anything you want it to be in between. Well, this was - primeval, instinctive, not loving, but mating.

They fell to the floor in a flurry of arms and legs, tearing off the clothes they still wore. She was too strong for him, then he was too strong for her. Buffy wouldn’t have believed it possible that she could want to come again so quickly, or that he could. All she knew was that he was hers, not Arabella’s. She knew somewhere in the darker recesses of her brain that in the cold light of day she would freak at what she was doing. How could she possibly be jealous of a vampire? It was insane. But her heart told her othewise. Arabella might want him, might lust after him, but it was she, Buffy Summers, who was naked on the floor with him.

Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and he grabbed her bottom and pulled her upwards as he thrust - deep, deeper and deeper, pulling her harder and harder towards him. Then he started to work on her, pounding with every ounce of his strength, glorying in the fact that not only could she take it, but she answered with all her Slayer power, her head flailing from side to side. She was beginning to make those noises he loved, little moans and cries at first, then more guttural in her throat.

“Open your eyes, look at me!” he demanded

When they hit together, she knew she was screaming and didn’t care who heard. This wasn’t the usual waves of pleasure, this was harder, sharper, she burnt inside and nothing would ever put out the fire he was lighting between them.

Buffy’s screams of passion and Spike’s growls of sated satisfaction echoed through the room. It wasn’t difficult to hear them in the next room - especially when you were looking through a spy hole cut specially in the wall panelling. Arabella watched the writhing couple without any expression on her beautiful face. A casual observer would have said she was bored by what she saw. Except that the wood panels on either side of the spy hole now had great gouges dug out of them by fingernails that needed desperately to be sunk into a Slayer’s eyes.

The huge mansion was quiet and dark as the evening shadows grew longer outside. Buffy and Spike walked silently along corridors and down the sweeping staircase into the hall. They had hardly spoken since they’d fallen away from each other, untangled limbs and pulled their clothes on over sweaty, sticky damp bodies. Buffy had ignored Spike when he tried to talk to her about what had just happened. All she wanted now was to get home, crawl into her own bed and forget.

In the entrance hall, all signs of the previous evening’s party had been cleared away and the black and white marble floor had been washed and polished. 

“I’ll find Div’vid and tell him we’re going,” Spike said, his voice full of suppressed anger. Their last bout of love-making had been so intense. All he’d wanted to do was talk to her about it. But no. All her defences had slammed down against him the second she was dressed. “Wait here, Slayer, and for goodness sake don’t get into another fight.”

Buffy watched him vanish down a passage and sighed. She knew she was being uber-bitchy with him, but what was there to say. She ached all over and the tight white shorts and skimpy T shirt made her feel cheap and grubby. She wandered out of the hall, through the empty, echoing ballroom, onto the verandah. The sky was dark indigo and somewhere crickets were chirruping. The fountain pattered down into the pool surrounding it. Buffy sat on the stone edge of the pond and dabbled her fingers in the cool water. A big fish swam up and nibbled at her, then realising she wasn’t food, dived down to the bottom in a flash of gold.

“How nice to have your home so close by,” she murmured. “I wish I could just dive down and find myself snug and safe indoors.” Her head hurt as well as other parts of her anatomy. She didn’t understand why she felt like this about Spike. This last bout of sex had stunned her with its violence, its passion, its driving desire. How had he become so important to her? OK, when Willow had brought her back from the dead, he’d been there for her and when she was with him, when he touched her, it was the only time she felt anything except a sort of cold despair. But he was still a vampire. He had no soul. Everything she’d been brought up to believe as a Slayer, as a female, was stood on its head by her feelings for this man.

She took a deep breath and stared up at where the first stars were beginning to appear. She could remember when she’d been about twelve or thirteen, just before she became aware of vampires and demons. A normal little girl. Crushes on pop stars, movie stars, drawing pictures of the wedding dress she wanted on the back pages of books in school. Knowing she would marry a nice boy one day, someone who was good-looking and kind, honest and fun. They would be very happy and live in a nice house, have a couple of children and be friends forever. No doubts. No death. No demons. No thin blond vampire would be in your life, because, hey, you were never going to watch him going off to work every morning while you rocked the cradle with your youngest child.

She was twenty-one, had died twice already, lost her mother, been given a sister, killed the love of her teenage years and all of that paled into insignificance when Spike smiled at her. “Colour me confused, little fishy,” Buffy murmured to the carp as it rose to the surface again. A familiar tingling on the back of her neck made her look up sharply. Arabella stood a few feet away, staring at her. Buffy yawned. “Oh not again, please. Look, we’re just going. We’ll be out of here. Thanks for a lovely party, etc. etc.”

A low growl broke from Arabella’s lips. “You still think you can take William away from me?”

“I’m not taking him anywhere.” Buffy jumped up, irritation at the vampire’s obsession with her cousin beginning to overcome her desire to get the hell out of Dodge and back to Sunnydale. “He’s driving me home and then he’s quite free to come back here, if he wants to. I’m not his keeper.”

Arabella stalked a little closer, her hands compulsively clenching into fists. “You keep his heart.”

“Yes, in a silver box in my bedroom!” Buffy joked and circled cautiously around the other woman.

Arabella obviously didn’t see any humour in her words. “He won’t return to me unless you release him. I can give him Hope, make him happy. Can you?”

“Excuse me, aren’t you a married sort of vampire? Didn’t I meet your husband yesterday? Remember him - very tall, green guy. Frovlax demon. Chews his food and brings it back up. Name of Div’vid. Ring any bells?”

Shimmering into game face, Arabella hissed and crouched lower. “Div’vid is not important. William is. I’ll say it again, Slayer. I can give him his heart’s desire. I can give him Hope. I can make him happy. Can you?”

On the final word she flung herself at Buffy, fingernails stretching towards the Slayer’s eyes. Buffy leapt to one side and smacked the vampire girl on the head as she passed. “Not doing too badly so far.”

Arabella rolled and was back on her feet in an instant. “All you’ll bring him is pain and despair,” she snapped and slashed with her hand. Her nails caught Buffy‘s bare arm and drew blood. Arabella snarled as the scent of the blood made her loose control.

Buffy flinched, turned to kick out and her supporting foot slid in the water scattered from the fountain in the evening breeze. She crashed to the ground, and her head clipped the edge of the fountain. She was aware of the world going round in red circles, of Arabella’s cold body against hers, a babble of victorious profanities in her ear, then the weight was being lifted and she focussed again on Spike in game face, holding his cousin’s hands behind her back, about to bury his fangs in her slender white neck.

“Spike! Stop!” Buffy didn’t hesitate. It was fine for her to kill Arabella, but not Spike. She couldn’t let him do that for her.

The golden glow vanished from his eyes and his human face appeared. “Sorry, luv, I didn’t believe you. But I’ve been watching and listening. Bitch tried to kill you.”

“She’s still your cousin, Spike. Family.”

“Bloody hell, Buffy, I offered to kill Dru for you once, remember. Why should Arabella be any different?”

“Because you’re different.” The words fell into the silence broken only by the splashing of the fountain. Her gaze caught his and held it steady, forcing him to think, to remember how far he’d come since those days.

Spike pushed Arabella away from him, as if her touch burnt. “Buffy’s the only person who can ever make me happy,” he snapped at his cousin. “Don’t you forget it.” Then, “Let’s get the hell out of here, Slayer.” He held out his hand and without hesitation, Buffy took it. And the feel of his cool fingers was like finally coming home.

But as they walked across the ballroom, matching stride for stride, behind them, Arabella started to scream. “Div! Div, darling! William tried to kill me. Stop them! Somebody stop them.”

A rumbling roar came from somewhere deep inside the house. The Frovlax demon was coming to the aid of its mate.

“Run, Buffy! I don’t want to fight Div’vid.”

Together they raced across the ballroom, through the hall and out once more into the night. The car Spike had ‘borrowed’ was parked only yards from the stone staircase that led down onto the drive.

Buffy risked a glance over her shoulder and gasped. She’d had no idea how fast Div’vid could move. The seven foot green demon had almost caught them and Arabella wasn’t far behind, leading a whole posse of demon servants. Swerving, Buffy knocked a huge stone container full of flowers off its pedestal as she passed and heard Div’vid howl with rage as he slipped in the mess of earth and petals and tripped, making the ground shake as he fell.

Then they were in the car; Spike spun the wheel and with smoking tyres, they were zooming past some fluffy pink demons, sending them screeching off into the bushes and away down the long drive towards the road. “They’ve shut the main gate!” Buffy yelled as they came into view.

Spike laughed, his eyes gleaming. “Hold on, pet. This could be a bit bumpy.” And with a crashing clatter, he rammed the gates, sending one of them flying, and the car was through, on the road and heading away from the mansion and back towards Sunnydale.

They drove in silence for a couple of minutes. Spike found some awful rock music on the radio and sang along as the miles went past. Eventually Buffy leant over and turned it off. “I’m sorry,” she said.

The wheel jerked in Spike’s hands. “Bloody hell, Slayer, I didn’t think you knew that word. What are you sorry about?”

“Ruining the party, I suppose. Making you fall out with your family.”

Spike glanced across at her, puzzled. “You mean fighting with Bella? That’s nothing new, pet. We used to do it all the time when we were kids. I thought it was a great party. Nothing like a good scrap to make it end with a bang.” 

Suddenly he drove the car off the road, into the desert and stopped, turning the lights off so they were plunged into darkness. They got out and sat down in the sand, leaning against the front bumper, gazing out into the starlit desert. “So did you have fun at the party, Slayer?” His finger reached out and ran slowly down her face, circling her mouth, drawing the outline of her lips. She shuddered.

“Not too pleased to have lost a perfectly nice dress, been in several fights, and had to run away at the end, just so I didn’t kill your relatives. But otherwise, yes, I enjoyed the show, Mrs Lincoln.”

Spike edged closer and his hands moved to circle her waist and pull her so her head was lying in his lap. She heard his zip give way and stared up at him, shivering, only too aware of the steely hardness that was only centimetres away from her mouth, but refusing to give in to her desire to touch.

“You could thank me for taking you,” he murmured, one hand slipping inside her shorts.

She sighed as she felt the tight material give way under his strength. “You do realise Arabella is in love with you,” she said and watched, almost in disbelief as her tongue flicked out to touch him.

He moaned. “No she isn’t. She’s just bored. Oh god, do that again, Slayer. Please!”

When she woke, she was curled in his arms, the sandy soil gritty against her bare skin. “Typical. I get to sleep in the desert, but I bet Arabella’s going to have some sumptuous home in Paris, or Florence or Monte Carlo,” she grumped.

Spike opened one glazed eye and stared down at the blonde hair spilling across his chest. God, this woman had a one track mind. Still, if she went on using her mouth for other things as well, he could put up with the questions. “No - Div’vid told me yesterday. He’s got a business venture going out in Australia. In the Outback, somewhere. A sheep station, I think he said. Thousands of miles of emptiness. He thought Arabella could use some time alone with him. Rekindle their relationship. He’s a nice guy like that, you know.” Suddenly, Spike tensed. He could feel Buffy shaking. What had he said to upset her now? Then he realised she wasn’t crying, she was laughing.

With a swirl of blonde hair and slim tanned limbs, Buffy sat up, hugging her knees, her eyes sparkling in the starlight. “You mean Arabella’s going to be all on her own, just with Div’vid and flocks of sheep and kangaroos and wallabies and things, thousands of miles from civilisation? No shops, no parties, no people. Just - Australia?”

Spike nodded, puzzled. He was still bewildered as they drove back into Sunnydale. Buffy had been singing Waltzing Matilda all the way home, but as long as she sat with her hand firmly between his legs, he didn’t really mind. Then as they reached the outskirts of town, she said, “Will you tell me what the hell was the story about the puppies?”

“What will you do for me if I do?”

“Do? You mean – geez, Spike, you have a one track mind! What do you want me to do? What! That’s impossible.” There was a long silence, then her curious voice asked, “Isn’t it?”

And they were still negotiating when they drove over the Welcome to Sunnydale sign and back into town.

the end

I do hope you have enjoyed this Spuffy romp. It was fun to write and thank you all for your comments.  
Don’t worry, Arabella lovers. Australia will never hold her. She’ll be back! She’s got a secret she wants to share. Watch out for the sequel, Three for a Secret.


End file.
